


Iniquitous Fruition

by TheObsidianQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry, Bottom Harry, Creature Draco, Creature Fic, Creature Harry, Dark Harry, Dumbledore Bashing, Dursley Bashing, Evil Dumbledore, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Hermione Granger Bashing, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mates, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Post sixth year, Ron Weasley Bashing, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 95,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsidianQuill/pseuds/TheObsidianQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer following Harry's sixth year, things take a dark turn for the worst with the Dursleys. Pushed to the edge of his own end by the hands of muggles, Harry is saved by an unexpected inheritance on his seventeenth birthday. With the mysterious gifts he receives, Harry has a sudden change in priorities. In the whirlwind of confusion and new powerful magic, how was Harry ever to predict what would happen when he returned for his seventh year at Hogwarts.</p><p>*TEMPORARILY ON HIATUS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Just a quick side note, I plan on posting a new chapter every Sunday. If, for whatever reason, I can't make the scheduled posting time, I will try to tell you before hand and also tell you when to expect it to be posted (feel free to send me all of the hate mail you want if I don't!) I will be posting early this week, so the second chapter will be out sometime this Sunday. If you prefer fanfiction.net, the story is also posted there under the same title. Thank you for reading! Please enjoy.

Down an extraordinarily ordinary street, wrapped in an equally plain house, a room of hidden things was tucked under the stairs. However, this room wasn’t piled with teetering mountains of lost items, in fact, it held quite little. A ratted mat emitting the faint stench of scorching summer nights without breeze, a few mangled toys that had barely survived the abuse of their previous careless owner, a scribbled drawing or two, and a forsaken nephew who wanted nothing more than to disappear among the many hidden things stacked to the brink of tipping in his mind’s eye.

 

Harry Potter lay curled up on his side atop the bare use-flattened mat, his back to the locked door that separated him from the rueful glares. His body sung with pain, part from being curled in the same position for hours, but mostly from the deceptively hard fist that had battered his body hours previous.

 

Harry almost laughed when the picture of Uncle Vernon’s pudgy dough-like fist raised in into the air popped into his head. He found it morbidly ironic that such a cushioned-looking hand had felt like steel as it hammered against his ribs, face, and abdomen. But authentic humor had dried up and withered in this cursed house.

 

Harry’s agonized breathing prompted him to slip a tentative hand under his T-shirt and gently prod his ribs, wincing at the white hot flashes of pain that bloomed everywhere he touched. Bruised and fractured, but not broken, Harry thought in relief, now that he knew he was in no danger of puncturing a lung.

 

Despite the night’s bloody turn of events, Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest by its happenings. Although physical beatings weren’t a common occurrence in the Dursley home, when Harry’s birthday came around, they were almost a certainty. Vernon had said something about the day Harry had been born being a ‘cursed and evil day’ a year or two before Hogwarts. Every year that Harry had left to go to the magical boarding school, his uncle’s hate had festered and grown insidiously, making the summer after Harry’s sixth year the worst yet.

  
Harry made frequent trips into the cupboard over that summer, feeling the fatigue and weariness grow each morning that he awoke in that cramped, dusty place with its single bare bulb blinding him when he turned it on. He had thought about sending Ron an owl, begging him to take him in for the remainder of the summer. He figured, at least until Harry turned seventeen and would be a legal adult in the eyes of the wizarding world he could inconvenience his best mate for maybe a month or two. But every time he pressed his quill to parchment, he remembered the warning Dumbledore had given him at the end of sixth year.

 

Harry had gone to Albus and requested to be put in a different home for the summer, to be _anywhere_ else than with the Dursley’s, but Dumbledore had swiftly reminded Harry that he was protected behind those blood wards, put there by his mother’s sacrifice on the day of her death, that was then passed on to his only remaining blood relatives. He said, to stay anywhere else would be a burden and a _danger_ to whomever took him in. Harry had felt physically ill at the thought of endangering any of his friends because he refused to put up with a few missed meals and an annual bashing that he always bounced back from before summer was through.

 

The mental play through of these conversations were the only things that distracted Harry as one day . . . two days passed without ever hearing the soft scrape of the metal door-lock being pushed back on the other side of the wood.

 

Harry was lying on the hardwood floors with his ear close to the cool surface as he attempted to stave off the assaulting heat that seemed to consume the entire house, and cook the cupboard at an uncomfortable temperature. It was then that he overheard Vernon and Petunia talking in the kitchen. With nothing else but the looming thoughts in his head, Harry opted to focus on what they were saying instead.

 

“Vernon, darling, do you intend to let the little mongrel out anytime soon? My hands will become dry and cracked if I have to wash anymore of these blasted dishes on my own!” It was rare for Aunt Petunia to speak so loudly and passionately, but Harry had seen how she obsessively rubbed her hands with different lotions daily to make them ‘soft’ and ‘perfect’. The thought of leaving the room soon had his stomach cramping painfully. The lining of dust in his airways had expelled the last bit of moisture he might have held phantoms of when he convinced himself he wasn’t thirsty.

 

“Absolutely not!” Vernon’s rumbling voice vibrated the wood against Harry’s cheek and he heard him huff out a heavy breath. “That bastard has snuck out every year to go to that blasted school of lunatics and caused trouble for us each and every time! I will not stand for any more insolence and disgrace to fall on this family because of that . . . _freak!”_ Vernon spat out the last word and Harry flinched at the disgusted face he could picture Vernon making as he said the word, he’d seen it too many times before to ever forget it.

 

“What do you plan on doing, then?” Petunia’s curiosity when unbidden as they both waited to hear Harry’s fate from his uncle.

 

“Easy, I will wait for the little vermin to die and tell his crackpot _‘professor’_ that he stole all of our money and ran with it. That brat should have never come into this world! If we had just left him outside on the night he was dropped here, he would have frozen and we could have just told people we had no idea he was out there, then we would never have suffered so much.” Vernon’s tone was full of regret at the missed opportunity.

 

Harry’s head clouded with panic at his uncle’s words and he shot up from the floor and began pounding on the door whilst on his knees since the cupboard was far too small to stand in. The sides of his fists rained down against the surprisingly thick door and he pleaded with his relatives on the other side to let him out, to spare him if he promised to never return to Hogwarts again.

 

After an hour of no response to his pleas, Harry slumped back onto the ground in resignation. He didn’t want to die, but without his wand and with his body so weak from lack of food, water and sleep, he had no way of escaping.

 

Harry wasn’t sure how much time he spent sitting there, staring blankly at the door as he came to grips with his own death and its absolute inevitability. At some point, Harry’s stomach had begun to ache and cramp again. At first he ignored it, but as the pain grew and blossomed in his abdomen, spreading to the rest of his body at an aching pace, he allowed himself to focus on it as it was obviously not hunger pains any longer.

 

A wreaking ball of pain and magic slammed into Harry and he was knocked back onto his bed, the crushing weight of some unfamiliar magic held him completely still as it felt like his insides were being blended _inside_ of his body. Harry could barely breath under the weight of the magic, and he felt a strange movement from inside of him, like someone was reaching an invisible hand into his body and rearranging all of his organs, being none too gentle with them either.

 

It was after ten minutes of restrained agony that the first deafening crunch of bones filled the room and Harry screamed against closed lips, accidentally biting his tongue in the process and nearly choking on the blood that filled his mouth. A series of deafening cracking noises filled the air with a gruesome crescendo to Harry’s pain along with his muffled screams. The bare bulb above his head flickered after a particularly painful snapping of both femurs and the floor beneath him trembled slightly.

 

Just as the pain seemed to become absolutely unbearable and Harry felt like he couldn’t possibly feel any more pain and he’d faint, his threshold would stretch and he remained conscious still. Harry wondered if he’d somehow been hit with some awful variant of crucio, or if this was some new and particularly awful curse created just for Harry.

 

After what felt like hours of torture, it felt like his entire being was stretched out like a rubber band, and snapped back into place. When it snapped back, the pain faded into something Harry could tolerate without crying out. The ill lit room around Harry suddenly became very out of focus and foggy.

 

“Ah, I see you actually survived, how very lucky of you.” A male voice said inside Harry's head, sounding very pleased and amused at the same time. “I do not have much time to spare, so I will be blunt and straight to the point, if you don’t believe anything I say, that’s _your problem!_

 

“What you’ve just experienced is a magical inheritance, a _creature inheritance_ in fact. Though, I doubt you will have any knowledge about what exactly you’ve turned into, that’s why I’m here! The creature you’ve become is commonly called _Infernuko Izaki_ , which in Basque loosely translates to _Hell Creature_. We’ve been given this name by humans long ago who thought we were demons based on a few of our characteristics. I suppose that _is_ the closest comparison one can make to the Izaki, but we are not demons in the biblical sense.” The voice prattled on in Harry’s head, muddling his train of thought and flood of questions.

 

“Wait, first, who are you?” Harry asked inside of his head, not sure if this strange legilimency was a one way thing, or if he could understand Harry as well.

 

“My name is Gail, I am also an Izaki, and I’m here to give you a briefing on what you are since you haven’t had anyone to prepare you. So . . . ask away!” Gail prompted enthusiastically.

 

“How can I be an Izaki? Were my parents also Izaki?” Harry asked, confused and disoriented from the pain still pulsing through his body and not quite sure if he believed Gail or not.

 

“Fortunately, both of your parents held the recessive Izaki gene needed to produce an Izaki offspring, but no, they were completely human. Throughout the years, more and more Izaki’s have lain with humans, producing only human children until someone else with the recessive gene comes along. Which is why new Izaki’s are very rare nowadays.” Gail explained evenly.

 

“Where are the others? I’ve never even heard of Izakis before this, surely there are more somewhere.” Harry tried to recall all of the strange creatures he’d heard about from both Hermione and Luna, but nothing on Izakis has ever come up.

 

“Izakis, because of our immense power, the Ministry and other governments have feared us for a very long time, so we’ve been classified as dark creatures, simply because they can’t control us as they’d like to. The Ministry moved all Izaki into Ministry-issued habitats and forced everyone to be registered officially through the Ministry. The restrictions and sanctions on Izakis are brutal, stripping away basic rights to try to control the Izaki for their own interests. Since the relocation, our numbers have dwindled and our more animalistic side has deemed the habitations to be unsafe for children and no one has fallen pregnant among the Izaki communities in many decades. The exception being those few human couples that produce Izaki children outside of the habitats, there have been several over the years, but they are hard to find and even harder to keep track off from inside these borders.

 

“Also, you don’t know about the Izaki because the Ministry refuses to allow such things to be taught in schools. God forbid anyone find out that the Ministry is doing such inhumane things to magical creatures just because they’re ‘dark’. Though, a few of the older pure blood families would still teach about such things since Izakis have been quite common among pure blood lines for centuries.” Gail huffed indignantly inside Harry’s head.

 

Harry could feel a wave of unconsciousness about to hit him and he suddenly felt impatient, wanting to get as much information out of Gail as possible before he was completely gone.

 

“Habitats? Register? Do I have to live in these habitats and register with the Ministry?” Harry asked sluggishly as his mind clouded.

 

“No, that’s why I’m talking to you like this, the Ministry has no way of tracking down new Izaki, as long as you don’t reveal yourself, you can be free. Who knows, one day you may find a way to free the rest of us, but we’re not all that optimistic. I will leave a book with you that gives a bit more of an explanation and information on the Izaki. From here on out, what you do with your life is your decision, bowing to the will of pathetic humans will only cause you more suffering. . . Good luck, Harry.” Towards the end, Gail’s tone became wary and sympathetic, Harry briefly wondered if Gail somehow knew Harry’s situation with the Dursley’s.

 

Before Harry could say anything in response, the world cleared around him and his pain increased tenfold what it had been before. It only took moments for the agony to eat up the last of his energy reserves and for his world to plunge into darkness.

 

֎

 

Harry was wakened by the thunder of heavy footfalls over his head, echoing in his brain like someone had placed amplifiers right next to his head. His body felt rigid and sore from his inheritance and it took a few moments for him to sit up because his head was pounding like a swollen heart inside of his skull.

 

The moment Harry was upright, though, there was an enormous pressure against his spine. He suddenly felt a hard tug on his shirt and heard fabric ripping along with the relief in his back as the pressure disappeared.

 

Harry slowly turned his head and looked over his shoulder, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw something huge and black looming right behind him. But when said thing shuddered and caught the light, he saw that it wasn’t a person or creature, but _a wing!_ Harry, with no small amount of effort and concentration, commanded the wing forward so he could see it better. The huge wing was as inky black as Harry’s hair and it resembled a bat’s wing, but instead of stretched leathery skin, the wing had a very short and compact layer of fur that reminded Harry of velvet when he touched it. Both wings were folded in the cramped space, so he wasn’t sure exactly how big they were, but they seemed huge.

 

Harry was still in shock at the new found physical evidence of his inheritance, when the idea of more possible physical Izaki traits popped into his head and he had the dreaded and overwhelming urge to look in the mirror and see if anything else had changed. The moment this appeared in his mind, one of the walls in the cupboard changed with a soft pop from a grimy white wall to a crystalline mirror opposite him. Startled by the sudden wandless magic, Harry jolted, then shot forward to look at himself in the mirror.

 

At first he thought perhaps nothing had changed except for his wings, but when he actually focused on his face, he couldn’t believe it was himself he was staring at. His skin looked slightly more fair and less sickly, his lips were fuller and a bit more pouty, his cheekbones were raised and a bit more pronounced, and his eyes were a little wider, more wondering, and a startlingly vibrant green that glittered and haunted him at the same time. Even his hair looked different, no longer a tangled nest of course hair and knots, it had silky black curls loose enough to look styled and soft to the touch.

 

It was still Harry’s face, but slightly more evolved and otherworldly. He wasn’t sure if it was just a characteristic of Izaki, but he looked less macho-manly as he’d expected, in fact, he looked more . . . pretty, and model-like. Harry huffed out in indignation and something white caught his eye in the mirror when he did so. Harry leaned in close and bared his teeth at his reflection and saw four long and lethally pointed fangs, two on top and two on bottom.

 

These weren’t the small, heart-throb angsty vampire fangs from movies for preteen girls, no, they were long snake-like canines that looked too dangerous to even be in Harry’s mouth! When Harry ran his tongue over them, they were sharp and strong, but didn’t cut his tongue, thankfully. Harry lifted a hand to poke at the teeth with his fingers to test their sharpness, but stopped halfway to his mouth. His nails had transformed into claws built for slicing and tearing. He found the same dangerous claws on his toes, only, slightly shorter.

  
Harry tried to make the attributes disappear at will, but only managed to waste even more of his time when absolutely nothing happened and he began to panic. What if he couldn’t hide them? Gail said that he was free to live his life outside of the habitats and no one would know, so there _must_ be a way to hide them.

 

Another thought popped into Harry’s head and he whipped around, looking for the book Gail had mentioned. Sure enough, next to his mat lay an antique-looking brown leather book with thick yellow parchment papers sewn into its spine. The cover read, in looping cursive letters, _Magus Creaturae: A Collection of Dark Creatures._ The title made Harry pause, he’d heard Gail mention that Izaki were dark, and before this summer, the thought of turning into a dark _anything_ would have filled Harry with dread, but now . . . he couldn’t be bothered.

 

If good and evil were truly divided by light and dark, then how could so many who are _‘light’_ ignore Harry’s suffering? It’s not like he really _hid_ what the Dursley’s did to him, he knew Ron and the other boys in their shared dorm room would have seen the scars on his back and a few on his abdomen from Vernon’s ring and boots, they’ve seen the healing bruises his first week back. They _must_ have, _right?_ And Dumbledore, Harry _begged_ him to let him stay anywhere besides the Dursley’s, but he just brushed off Harry’s pleas as teenage dramatics and exaggeration.

 

Why would those who are _good_ rely on a _child_ to face an evil and sadistic wizard? Why is the weight of the wizarding world placed on _his_ shoulders alone? Could Dumbledore truly not defeat Voldemort with the joint effort of many other skilled and _adult_ wizards and witches?

 

Harry’s anger boiled inside of him and a deep growling noise reverberated around the room, startling Harry out of his rage-filled thoughts long enough to realize _he_ had made that noise! Pushing aside his angering realizations, Harry cracked open the antique tome and began searching for anything on Izakis.

 

Towards the end of the book, Harry finally came across a chapter on Izaki. He read about the physical attributes of an Izaki, much of which he’d already discovered himself; velvety wings used for both flying and protection, fangs for tearing into prey, claws that could cut through armor, and . . . _wait, what?_ Harry read the passage again to see if what he was reading was right.

 

_The final physical change is perhaps one of the most important directly after an inheritance. For, it determines whether the Izaki are a Submissive or a Dominant. Izaki are separated into Submissive and Dominant and mate accordingly. Despite how this may sound, Submissive Izakis are in no way less dangerous than Dominant Izakis, especially around their offspring. Dominants protect their Submissives, but they can be just as ferocious as their Dominants, perhaps even more so in certain situations._

 

_Though Dominants can distinguish Submissives based only on smell, you can also determine whether an Izaki is Submissive by whether or not they have a tail. If they have a tail, they are Submissive, though they can hide them if they so choose. . ._

 

Harry set the book down on the floor and quickly got up onto his knees. With his head looking over his shoulder into the mirror, showing his back, Harry lifted the hem of his shirt and froze when a long black tail coated in short black fur slipped out from under his shirt and lazily whipped around like a cat tail, curling and uncurling, brushing the floor and the backs of his legs as it moved. Harry’s wings fluttered slightly as he left out a heavy breath. The knowledge that he was a Submissive Izaki was overwhelming.

 

Harry snorted and sat back on his feet, feeling his tail curl up and brush the back of his shirt before wrapping gently around his leg. _Of course_ he’s a bloody submissive! He’s _Harry Potter,_ how could anything freaky happen without it becoming even freakier?!

 

Reading more of the book, he got quite a bit of information that filled in some of the gaps. It turns out that Izaki’s don’t used wands, they don’t need a conduit for their magic, _hence the wandless magic._ Harry couldn’t help the primal, grim satisfaction that came over him when he used a bit a wandless magic and realized that not only could he go wandless, but his amount of power had also grown immensely.

 

He read through the rest of the chapter, absorbing all of the information he could about his animalistic instincts, powers, and even more about bonding, mating, and familial dynamics. From what he’d read, Izaki were in fact dangerous, but unlike what the Ministry thought about them, they weren’t inherently evil— _we_ weren’t inherently evil.

 

Having read his fill, Harry tried the technique he’d read about in the book to pull in his Izaki traits to appear human. It took a couple of tries, but eventually Harry got the hang of it. Though, his appearance didn’t really change, his non-human identifiers were gone. Once he was normal-ish looking, Harry did a bit of wandless magic and unlocked the cupboard door.

 

Stepping out, Harry stretched his body fully and heard a few pops from his joints and a satisfied purr-like noise vibrated from his chest, up through his throat and tickled his closed lips. Harry looked down that the jeans that had been too long for him a few nights ago, but were now a few inches too short. So he had grown in height, but when he looked down at the rest of his body, he wasn’t exactly bigger. He had enough muscle now to make him no longer look malnourished and gawky, but his body was still slim and lithe. Perhaps it came with being submissive.

 

Thundering steps on squeaking floor boards brought Harry’s attention back to his surroundings and he waited in the hallways for the corpulent man to round the corner. Fear didn’t immediately seize Harry as it always had before, it was now more of a residual fear, conditioned into him over the many years he’d spent here and would take quite some time to unlearn such reactions.

 

“Petunia. I _told you_ to leave that monstrosity in the—” Vernon stopped midsentence when he rounded the corner and saw Harry. Harry said nothing as he walked past a stunned and furious Vernon Dursley and up the stairs to where his bedroom was.

 

He could hear Vernon’s enraged curses and insults as he stomped up the stairs after Harry, but when he reach Harry’s room, Harry smirked as he used wandless magic to slam the door in his face. He calmly packed his things as Vernon’s fat fists pounded on his door and he screamed promises of death into the unyielding wood.

 

Once everything was packed, he shrunk it down and shoved it into the pocket of his sweatshirt that he’d thrown on moments before. Grabbing the handle of Hedwig’s cage, Harry apparated into the night and made a promise to himself that he would return one day and kill Vernon and Petunia and perhaps crucio Dudley until he was satisfied that the bastard had paid his dues. If he suffered from any permanent damage in the process, it was of no concern to Harry.

 

֎

 

For the remainder of the summer, Harry had withdrawn money from his vaults to get all new clothes and robes because of his sudden ‘growth spurt’, he had them all tailored and fitted at Madam Malkin’s. After officially claiming his inheritance at Gringotts, Harry moved into the Potter estate, bringing any sort of creature books out of his vaults to study later in case any of them held any more information.

 

He spent the half of august collecting any books he could find with even the slightest mention of Izaki in them. They were very hard to track down, considering the Ministry wanted to deny the very existence of Izaki, so Harry only found a few and they were all from countries that were a bit more lax about dark creatures, or their governments just didn’t know of their existence.

 

Harry didn’t hear from Gail again after the night of his inheritance, but that didn’t bother him, he could figure things out on his own. With Harry’s inheritance had also come the realization that the people he’d trusted and befriended were not as saintly as he’d thought. Thinking back on all the times that Ron and Hermione had clamped up and gone silent when faced with obvious evidence of Harry’s abuse, he had become bitter towards the couple over the summer. It was easier and more convenient for them to pretend that it wasn’t happening, rather than face it and try to help Harry.

 

He knew it would be difficult facing the pair when he showed up at King’s Cross on the first, since they were unawares to his revelations, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. They deserved to feel uncomfortable at the very least.

 

The summer ended without any sort of finesse. He packed his trunk for Hogwarts, put on his, as of late, usual garb of tailored black trousers, glistening black oxfords, a dark navy blue band collar dress shirt, and a fitted black coat that stopped at the top of the thigh with small silk covered black buttons down the front. Harry had forgone his customary ill fitted jeans and a T-shirt after accepting his lordship of the Potter line.

 

Ever since his inheritance, Harry has decided that he would find a way to free the other Izaki from the Ministry’s ‘protection’. To do this, he needed to actually have influence in the Ministry, so, from the start of august Harry has been organizing meetings with Ministry members, politicians, and others on the Wizengamot to begin the process of networking. Harry was sought after not only because of his fame for defeating Voldemort as an infant, but also for his political influence now that he holds a seat in the Wizengamot and is an officiated Lord.

 

He figures that he should build his political power now, and then once he has graduated from Hogwarts and can take his seat on the Wizengamot, he can begin presenting and voting on legislation that will provide more substantial right for dark creatures, for _all_ magical creatures. Harry scoffed at how very _righteously Hermione_ that sounded. If she were to hear of his ambitions, no doubt she would try to get even closer to Harry to try to ‘free the house elves’.

 

Harry took one last look at the entrance hall to the Potter estate around him and apparated to the receiving room tucked away in King’s Cross, spelled and protected from muggles curiosity. Platform 9 ¾ didn’t hold the same charm that it had in previous years, probably due to his change in views.

 

“Harry!” Harry turned slowly when he heard a familiar voice call out to him, mentally groaning at being caught by them before he’d even stepped on the train.

 

“Hello Ron, Hermione.” Harry said politely when he faced the pair, but his voice held nothing more than polite courtesy, there was no warmth in his voice or face. Ron and Hermione exchanged a confused and put off look, but a moment later, they persisted.

 

“Good to see you mate. Looks like you’ve grown! What, was Dudley gone for the summer? Not able to inhale all the food for once!” Ron snorted at his own joke and Hermione jabbed an elbow into his ribs, watching Harry carefully, as if waiting to see if Harry broke down right there in the middle of the platform. But Harry didn’t so much as blink an eye at Ron’s lack of tact or sensitivity to Harry’s situation, though on the inside, Harry cringed at the realization that Hermione would think him pitiful enough to do just that.

 

“If you don’t mind, I would like the board the train, please.” Harry said in monotone. When he turned towards the train and Ron moved to follow him, he added, “Alone, thank you.”

 

He left Ron and Hermione still gaping at him on the platform and entered the Hogwarts Express. Harry moved all the way to the back of the train, ignoring every giggle, every glare, every rumor, and every less than appropriate look along his person. In the last car of the train was an open seating area with shelves above the booths where people could place their luggage. Harry would have preferred an empty compartment for himself, but the personal seating areas wouldn’t guarantee that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t track him down and have a long and unnecessary conversation with him about his behavior. At least here people only looked and whispered to their friends, they didn’t approach him or try to talk.

 

Once Harry’s luggage and owl were secured on the shelf above an empty booth, he sat down and gazed out the window, beginning to think through meetings and conversations he needed to have still with certain people of power. Hogwarts would be a pain, but he needed to graduate to be able to sit the Wizengamot and he could use this to his advantage, a few of the people he was aiming at getting under his thumb had children who attended Hogwarts.

 

The door to the car opened and four figures stepped in and conversation seemed to cease around the car. Harry, curious from the sudden silence, looked away from the window and saw the group of Slytherins walking over to sit down two booths away. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini sat with their backs to Harry while Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott sat opposite them, facing Harry. When Harry glanced around the car, he noticed that most of the students were glaring at the group, having heard rumors of their parents’ affiliation with the Dark Lord.

 

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the group. Hostile as they may have been to Harry in the past, he’d come to understand that things weren’t a clear cut as black and white, good and evil. Everyone had their own motivations, many of the political figures he’d met with had some sort of ties or relations to Deatheaters and Voldemort. Harry knew that most didn’t agree with his crazed views and were only trying to protect what is precious to them. Feeling impassive on all matters that don't directly effect the new path Harry had decided to take, Harry had even considered trying to set up a meeting with Lucius Malfoy to discuss a handful of things.

 

When Harry looked back at the booth of snakes, he was caught in the silver gaze of Draco Malfoy. He seemed bigger than Harry remembered him being, his shoulders were broad and his arms filled his tailored clothes solidly. His face was no longer pointy and child-like, he had a hard jawline, sharp cheekbones, a straight aristocratic nose, and mercury eyes that looked dangerous and challenging to Harry.  _And enticing . . ._ Harry paid little mind to the hungry thoughts that ghosted around the outer reaches of his mind. Harry had found thoughts like that popping up every so often now that he was an Izaki. They weren't as alarming to Harry as they probably should be, just a slight whisper in his mind that spoke honestly of his uninhibited desires.

 

After a moment of holding his gaze, Harry inclined his head once in a slow, polite nod and turned back towards the window. He could still feel Malfoy’s eyes on him as the piercing screech of the Hogwarts Express announced its departure.

 

Most of the nine hour long train ride Harry spent either reading, staring at the window, or politely dismissing the Gryffindor’s Hermione sent his way to try to talk to him about why he was acting the way he was. Eventually she even sent Ron.

 

“What is up with you lately? You give Hermione and me the cold shoulder the moment you see us. You stopped writing to us over the summer, I hear you’re getting into  _politics_ , and now you’re dressing like some pompous Slytherin!” By the end Ron’s voice had risen above a conversational level, drawing in the attention of everyone in the car. After clearing his throat and lowing his voice a few notches because of the unashamed audience hanging off of his every word, Ron spoke again in a quieter tone. "This isn't like you. You  _hate_ all of those things, what the hell is going on?"

 

Harry once again felt the gazes of snakes, but he didn’t take his eyes off of a furious red faced Ronald Weasley. Harry quirked a brow at Ron, but his face was otherwise neutral. Harry watched Ron squirm under his gaze for a few long moments, unable to look Harry in the eye for long. Harry slowly leaned forward and Ron suddenly looked _very_ nervous. He wanted to get just as angry as Ron, to shout back at him,  _'and how would you know what is 'like me'? You barely even_ know _me!'_ Instead, he just met Ron's narrowed eyes with a blank mask of neutrality.

 

“What can I say,” Harry finally spoke in a bored tone and Ron tried to hide a slight flinch at the sudden noise in the silent car, “They have _taste._ ” Harry said in a low, deadly tone, like he was speaking of something dark and delightfully twisted. Harry heard Parkinson snort with a little _‘damn right we do’_ under her breath and once Ron was gone, hiving stormed out of the car with a hiss of curses trailing after him, Harry looked over at the Slytherins and he didn’t miss the slight amused curl at the corner of Malfoy’s mouth and the curiosity in his eyes.

 

Releasing an annoyed sigh, Harry returned to his book and was pleased when the door to the car stayed closed for the rest of the train ride.

 

֎ 

 

The welcoming ceremony went on without a hitch and Harry sat at the back end of the Gryffindor table in his new Gryffindor robes, getting stares and subtle glances from the entire dining hall, which he ignored and ate his food silently. When he was done, he promptly stood up and left followed by the eyes and whispers of the student body.

 

Instead of going up to his dorms after dinner, Harry waited outside of McGonagall’s office, knowing she would soon be there to go over a bit of beginning of the year paperwork or to go over the list of new first years that had been sorted into her house less than an hour before. Twenty minutes later, she rounded the corner and jumped slightly when she saw Harry standing outside her door, waiting.

 

“Oh my! Mr. Potter, what are you doing here? You should be back at the dorms getting yourself settled in.” McGonagall admonished halfheartedly even as she unlocked the door and invited Harry in. Harry took a seat in front of her desk and passed on the tea that she offered. “Now, tell me Mr. Potter, what is so important that it couldn’t have waited until morning?” Minerva’s clipped Scottish trill was as imposing as ever.

 

“I want to switch houses.” Harry wasted no time getting to the point, he didn’t believe in dawdling. McGonagall looked taken aback and was shocked into silence.

 

“Is there a problem with Gryffindor, Harry?” McGonagall leaned forward, looking concerned, as if Harry was about to tell her that someone was bullying him or Voldemort had infiltrated the Gryffindor students.

 

“Not at all. It has been quite good actually, but I do not belong there. During my first year, before the sorting, I had been told that only dark witches and wizards came out of the Slytherin house, made to believe that Slytherins were evil and corrupt, but in my older years, I’ve seen that this is not true in the slightest. Originally, the sorting hat had tried to place me in Slytherin, but because of what I’d heard, I begged the hat to put me anywhere but.” Harry explained calmly, knowing that Minerva couldn’t outright refuse his request to switch if he was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin to begin with.

 

“But . . . your friends—” She looked lost in how to approach this.

 

“If they are truly my friends, my chosen house shouldn’t matter. It is not as if interhouse communication and friendships are forbidden or even looked down upon. This is my last year at Hogwarts, and though it is a little late, I want to spend what time I have left in the house that actually suits me.” Harry folded his hands in his lap, chin held high, and matching McGonagall’s uncertain gaze.

 

“Well—I—I suppose I can talk to the Headmaster and see what I can do about moving you. For now, you should go back to your dorms and get some rest, it must have been a long train ride.” Minerva lifted a hand toward the door, motioning for Harry to leave, but he stayed seated. Harry saw right through her antics and smirked at her attempts.

 

“There’s no need to wait. As my head of house, now that I have officially requested a transfer, you alone can approve it. There is no need to bring the Headmaster into such trivial matters.” Harry pulled a folded piece of parchment out of the inner pocket of his robes and handed it over to McGonagall, who took it hesitantly.

 

“This is the transfer papers, I know I am supposed to get it from the Headmaster and you probably want to know how I’ve gotten them so quickly. I’ve been holding on to these for a very long time, in case I ever decided to transfer. All you have to do is sign the last line here, and my things will be automatically transferred into the Slytherin dormitory. I would rather not spend the night in the Gryffindor dormitory in case it gets out that I am transferring, my former housemates are not as . . . lenient towards Slytherins as I am. I’m sure you can understand my meaning behind those words.” Harry finished, sitting back in the chair and watching with a pleasant expression as McGonagall reads through the forms slowly, as if stalling for more time for Harry to change his mind.

 

After it was clear that McGonagall had read the forms twice, she sighed deeply and signed her name in neat, perfect loops. With a pop, the forms disappeared, already filed in Hogwarts archive, not requiring the Headmaster’s review or approval. Once there, no matter how many time someone tried to take them out or destroy them, a copy would replace them a moment later.

 

Harry stood with a pleased smile on his face, politely nodded at Minerva, and bid her good night before leaving her office and making his way towards the dungeons, feeling perfectly pleased with the day’s end.

 

֎ 

 

Down in the Slytherin dungeons Harry approached the stone wall that house the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Harry walked right up to the wall, spoke the password that was presented in his mind the moment the proper paperwork had been filed, and waited as the passageway was revealed.

 

Harry strode into the common room and didn’t even blink at the gaping Slytherins who had come in early from dinner. A flash of white caught Harry’s eye, he turned his head and his eyes locked with Draco’s. A single brow rose up on Draco’s forehead as his eyes followed Harry across the room and Harry flashed a brief smirk, snapping his fingers and turning his red and gold tie to a Slytherin green.

 

Harry had already disappeared deeper into the dorm before the common room erupted into chaos and Draco was left staring after _former_ Gryffindor.

 

Because Harry was a late transfer, all of the seventh year dorm rooms were evenly filled, which meant that he got a room to himself. It was much smaller than a typical dorm room, considering it housed only one bed instead of the typical five. If another Slytherin transferred, Harry suspected that the room would expand to comfortably fit two beds and so on.

 

Harry settled into his new room of cold damp stone and Slytherin green furnishings. Once he was settled, he began writing out a couple of letters he had wanted to write on the train, but was continuously interrupted by Gryffindor mediators.

 

Harry was in the process of wrapping up his third letter when there came a knock on his door. Harry cast a quick blurring charm on his letter to protect from any wandering eyes and stood to open the door. To Harry’s mild shock, Severus Snape stood outside of his door look thoroughly perplexed. Harry stepped back and invited his new head of house into his dorm room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.

 

“What can I help you with Professor Snape?” Harry asked neutrally, nearly everything he did around others was neutral. Strong reactions brought questions and slipups, Harry wouldn’t— _couldn’t—_ take that risk when discovery meant imprisonment without any way of helping his fellow Izaki.

 

Over the summer, while digging through the Potter vaults and reading every encyclopedia, novel, and journal he could get his hands on, Harry had discovered some very interesting things whilst reading his late mother’s journals depicting her time at Hogwarts and even mentioning times before that. Even if Lily Evans had never fully grasped it, Harry saw very plainly that Snape’s interest in his mother had been more than friendly. Also, reading about several events involving Severus and Harry’s father helped Harry to fully understand Severus’s hostility towards Harry in his previous years here. Harry hoped that perhaps being in his house and proving Snape wrong in his assumptions about Harry might ease the man’s disdain towards Harry.

 

“I didn’t believe Minerva when she informed me of your requested transfer, I thought perhaps you had been polyjuiced.” Severus didn’t look very convinced that that wasn’t the case, so Harry gestured for him to check, an amused smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. After a brief, painless spell, Snape looked no more at ease, in fact, it might even be worse.

 

“Now you probably want to know _why_ I transferred. Why did I trade out my red and gold for green and silver? Let’s just say, I had _quite_ the revelation over the summer.” Harry said evenly, even as his hand unconsciously touched the area next to his eye on its way into his hair, as if checking for tenderness and telling signs that any bruise was still there.

 

When Harry had first gone to Gringotts, he wasn’t completely used to his wandless magic yet, and was unable to produce any sort of heavy glamor, though he managed some strong enough to fool normal witches and wizards, the goblins of Gringotts looked straight at his black eye, busted lip, and bruised jaw and gave him a lingering look without saying anything. Apparently an inheritance didn’t heal wounds and scars of the past, though the scars faded a good couple of years-worth and the bruises healed faster.

 

“You are now officially in my care, Potter, you carry the Slytherin name on your back, do _not_ cause trouble within my house. This is the only warning I will give you, if you are here to make trouble or spy on any of the other Slytherins, I will make your life _unimaginably_ harder. Am I clear?” Severus dictated with the air of an unyielding and terrifying force, which in all sincerity, made Harry feel the urge to giggle. It was like watching a corn snake hiss at a python, cute, but dangerous. So Harry just smirked instead.

 

“No harm will ever come to your den of snakes. You have my word, Severus.” Harry pledged, far too amused by the disconcerted look on Snape’s face at Harry using his first name so casually. With that, Harry opened the door for Severus and politely nodded at him once as he passed.

 

Once his door was closed, locked, and the room had been swept for any surveillance spells, Harry shed all of his clothes, save his pants, and released his Izaki traits, finally feeling like he could relax. Harry stretched his wings to their full width for the first time since this morning and keened in at the glorious feeling of finally doing such. His wings were stretched diagonally across the room so that they’d fit, being that they were 16 feet in length. His soft, velvety black tail brushed the floor and licked the back of his bare thighs as it swayed lazily.

 

Being an Izaki, Harry naturally ran a bit warm, even more so when in full Izaki display, so the chilled dungeons felt like heaven to Harry. He plopped onto his new bed and began rolling around on its silky surface, nuzzling into it until he was satisfied that his scent signature was strong enough to claim this as _his_. It felt completely ridiculous and embarrassing the first time Harry had done it in at the Potter estate, but as he discovered more about Izakis, he learned that they were very territorial, and to satisfy a person’s Izaki side, it was best to give in to the little things such as this, so that when Izaki instincts on much larger things needed to be ignore, their Izaki side didn’t lash out.

 

Harry didn’t bother slipping under the covers, not while it was still so close to summer, so instead he spelled the curtains closed, nuzzled his face into his down feather pillow, and dropped off quickly into sleep.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two: Izaki

 

The next morning, Harry woke up flat on his back, his limbs hanging off the edge of the bed, as if seeking the cool air just outside his bed hangings. Harry was going to just lay there for a while longer, but the curtained off space was sweltering. Harry slid out of bed, sighing as his bare feet met cold stones, clearing a bit of the fog from his sleep-idled brain. Harry noticed the source of the additional heat came from the charmed window that streamed fake sunshine and heat into the room. He wondered who he had to talk to about changing that.

 

Once showered and dressed in his pressed Slytherin robes, Harry slipped his bag over his shoulder and left his room to go down to breakfast, making sure to take his wand with him for appearances. At the door, Harry put up a heavy ward with a few mild detection spells since he didn’t have roommates. The only person who should be entering his room is himself.

 

With the surge of people on their way to breakfast, Harry received even more stares as he walked through the dungeons and the rest of Hogwarts in his new robes. Chin held high, Harry walked confidently into the dining hall and made his way straight towards the Slytherin table. As expected, this prompted a roar of whispers and inquiries. Slytherin, at this point, had the fewest amount of students out of all the other houses, so finding an empty area to sit was hardly a problem, much to Harry’s satisfaction.

 

Harry didn’t bother returning any of the curious or confused gazes of his peers, but he _did_ look up at the staff table, catching Dumbledore’s eye. Dumbledore’s bushy white brows were scrunched together in either concern or frustration, Harry wasn’t fully sure. Harry mentally preened, knowing he was muddling up the perfect, heroic Gryffindor/Savior image that Dumbledore had been trying so hard to paint Harry as since the day that his parents were killed.

 

If the Great Harry Potter suddenly became Slytherin, either one of two things would happen: either people would be forced to believe that not everyone in Slytherin was evil, or people would begin to doubt that Harry was right for the title of ‘savior’. Either option was adventitious for Harry and a very big pain for Dumbledore. Harry would never again bow to the old coot’s manipulations.

 

Just then, someone passed by closely behind Harry and a spine tingling sensation the nearly made Harry’s toes curl rolled through him. It was a conscious effort not to release his Izaki side right then and there and begin purring like a bloody house cat in heat. Harry turned his head slightly with the fractional dip of his chin and caught the corner of Draco Malfoy’s eye watching him discreetly as he walked to the portion of the Slytherin table where his group sat. His inner circle of friends were sneaking glances at Harry and talking low to each other.

 

 _Quite curious,_ Harry thought as his gaze lingered on the younger Malfoy, _quite curious indeed._

 

Harry’s first class was double potions with Snape. Harry had been partnered with Blaise Zabini for the potion they were supposed to make, Snape looked smug, as if placing Harry with the other Slytherin would cause Harry’s rather infamous temper to flare and give him an excuse to boot Harry out of Slytherin. Though, much to Severus’s ire, Blaise and Harry actually worked very well together. It didn’t take Blaise long at all to accept Harry as a Slytherin, Harry suspects it might be because he simply can’t bring himself to care.

 

Every time something was off with their potion, Harry immediately smelt it, his Izaki senses taking over to protect him from screwing up a potion that could be very dangerous and _explosive_ if done wrong. Harry and Blaise weren’t the first ones done, no, that would be Draco and Theo, but they finished very soon after them, their potion the perfect milky lavender color with the aroma of a slaughter house. Not the most aromatically pleasing, especially to Harry’s very _sensitive_ nose, but it was the most potent curse counteractive that the seventh years could legally brew.

 

Harry politely complimented Blaise’s skills in potions once they exited the room. Then briskly turned to go to the library. He had a free period, and although he was skeptical, he wanted to know if he could actually find anything on Izaki in the library that _wasn’t_ a load of Ministry bollocks about how evil and dangerous they were.

 

At this point, Harry had all of the elements to put together quite a complete Izaki history, but he couldn’t help his insatiable desire to fill in the rest of the blanks. Harry had spent a good portion of August in places like Mesopotamia in the Middle East, Egypt, the Indus Valley, and China. In the places with some of the oldest recorded history of civilization, Harry found tablets masked in magic to protect its contents from Muggle eyes. He found scrolls and carvings down endless walls that, at first glance, detailed the mundane and seemingly ordinary. But after a moment of staring, the surface of the ancient charms melted away, revealing varying accounts of powerful beings referred to as ‘Guardians’ of ‘Protectors’.

 

Some scripts praised them, some cursed them. Harry went off of only vague mentioning’s of what _might_ be his people, and doubled his efforts in finding a complete history. It wasn’t until Harry was about to stop his search so that he could prepare for school that it happened. One of Harry’s contacts, who he’d sent to search for any magically-hidden spaces in one of the ancient structures that held the vague allusions to Izaki, had brought him a book about the size of a textbook. The book was obviously ancient and preserved by magic, but it had clearly been made and placed in the structure far later than the carvings had been made.

 

The book had been in a language Harry had never seen before, but when he focused on each word individually, the symbols melted and reformed into perfect English. More importantly, the book held exactly what Harry had been looking for, along with interesting chapters about other creatures he’d never even heard of before.

 

According to the book, Izaki have been around for far longer than the humans, fighting what is only ever referred to as ‘ _a great evil’_. When the humans—muggles and witches and wizards included—came along, the Izaki fought to protect them from the evil-blokes because they did not have the means or the strength to protect themselves. During this time, the Izaki were revered as divine protectors in the eyes of the humans. Though, when the Izaki finally wiped out the last of the ‘great evil’, they decided that they would no longer protect the humans because they didn’t _need_ protecting; and so, the Izaki gathered and built their own cities around the world, cut off from human contact.

 

Several human kings requested the Izaki’s aid in their wars with each other, but the Izaki refused to help humans kill each other for the sake of power. One king, with an infamous temperament, was outraged that the Izaki had turned a blind eye to their war and he decided that he would rather destroy the Izuki than let his enemy use them. Knowing he could not destroy them with might, the king secretly began spreading rumors throughout his kingdom and the next that the Izaki were demons who orchestrated the entire war with the great evil in order to take over the humans. He spread lies about them slaughtering entire villages for fun and bringing humans into their cities to use as slaves or to devour.

 

The Izaki had no knowledge of these lies going around about them, so they didn’t think twice about letting the barmy king and his men into their city on the pretense of repentance for asking for them to fight in a war that had nothing to do with them. It wasn’t until it was too late that the Izaki elders realized that the king had betrayed them, poisoning their water supply. The poison was used in all of the Izaki cities. It either killed them or knocked them out, all Izaki of high standing were killed and the ones that weren’t, were forced into slavery or labor camps or imprisoned. Harry isn’t fully sure _how_ the Izaki have been subdued for so long if they’re so powerful, but he thinks it might have a bit to do with whatever poison they’d given them in the first place.

 

It all fit in with the pieces he’d found up until that point, but now Harry wants to know more about what happened _after._ How had the ministry taken over as slave driver? Where is the current ‘habitat, and how are the conditions? This would all be so much easier if Harry knew how to contact Gail again. Harry has been exploring different techniques for legilimency, but none of them have succeeded in contacting the older Izaki. Perhaps he should look that up at the library as well. . .

 

But as Harry turned another corner in a more deserted part of the school, he was stopped in his tracks by a tall blonde figure leaning against a shadowy wall. Draco seemed to be waiting for him, if the unsurprised look on his face was anything to go by.

 

Harry masked his curiosity from showing through as he approached the blonde. Standing face to face, a few feet apart, Harry realized just _how much_ Malfoy had grown over the summer. Despite Harry’s own added inches to his height, bringing him up to about 6’, Draco was still quite taller than him, probably around 6’7”. Malfoy wasn’t overly bulky, but his shoulders were broad and he had a solid form that made him quite imposing, looking ever more an empirical ruler of some far off kingdom. All the thinking about kings and ancient cities has fuddled Harry’s brain.

 

Harry noticed Malfoy’s own appreciative look. Well . . . he wasn’t quite sure if it was appreciative or simply sizing him up, but it made him want to tilt his chin even higher and stretch up to his full height. He felt a pressure in his back and at the base of his spine, which was quite alarming, but he didn’t let it show on his face.

 

“Are you also here to ask me why I’ve switched to Slytherin? Because after how many times I’ve gotten that same question, I’m tempted to just stand on a table during dinner and yell it at the top of my lungs so that I don’t have to explain it anymore. But that seemed quite _un-Slytherin_ of me, so I’ll refrain if you simply _don’t ask.”_ Harry broke the silence between them, wanting to be on his way to the library even if he was curious about the feeling he’d gotten earlier in the dining hall.

 

Instead of replying, Draco took a generous step forward and leaned in. Harry didn’t move as Draco’s nose nearly brushed the skin of his neck and he heard Malfoy inhale deeply as he moved his nose up towards the side of Harry’s head to the edge of his hairline behind his ear. Malfoy leaned in even closer until his lips brushed ever so lightly against his ear as he whispered.

 

 _“You’re a submissive, interesting. . .”_ Malfoy’s voice was low and rough, even in his whisper. Malfoy suddenly snapped back, just barely escaping Harry’s snapping jaws as his instincts took over.

 

The more human side of Harry was amused by Draco, being that he was obviously an Izaki himself, but Harry’s Izaki side only saw a possible dominant and would lash out to shake off any advances until he proved himself worthy and both sides of the submissive approved of him as a mate. It was primitive and the complete opposite of how his human side had been living the past month, but it was also like hot honey slowly rolling down his throat and filling his system until his head swam. Draco grinned at Harry and his eyes ran over him anew in this true form, and instead of fear like the Izaki side of him wanted, he looked _ravenous_.

 

Harry bared his fangs at Malfoy swiped his claws at him, only just missing flesh as Draco jumped back again out of the way. When it was clear that Malfoy wouldn’t try advancing on Harry again, Harry reigned in his Izaki side and promptly passed Draco without a word, making his way to the library. If Malfoy wanted to try pursuing a mate-ship with Harry, Harry wouldn’t stop him. It would be his own fault for getting himself killed with such advances if he wasn’t ready to really take Harry on.

 

֎ 

 

Because Harry was now Slytherin, most of his classes were with Draco. At first it had been amusing catching Draco staring at him, or ‘accidentally’ brushing his hand against Harry’s arm as he passed. Or when he tried and failed to become Harry’s partner for assignments and projects—thanks to Blaise—but as the day wore on, and Harry’s Izaki was constantly being riled up by Draco’s mere presence, Harry became very irritable and nearly exploded when Seamus somehow managed to set his book on fire in Arithmancy. The shorter man was still, on occasion, annoyingly combustible.

 

After classes were done for the day, Harry decided to wander outside to sooth his nerves instead of going straight back to his room. Harry started by walking by the edge of the lake as the sun sank below the horizon. Once the sun was completely gone and the sky filled with bright stars, Harry turned and walked straight into the forbidden forest. Once deep enough that he could no longer see the lake nor hear its waves lapping at the stones on the beach, Harry shrugged off his outer robe and began to undress. Once down to only his trousers and pants—not even his socks stayed on—Harry set his clothes atop a fallen tree and released his Izaki side.

 

Stretching his wings, the cold air around Harry felt much more comfortable with his increase in body heat. Feeling more at home in the wild expanse of towering trees and foliage than the pale stone walls and colorful banners. After a deep stilling breath, Harry was off, on the hunt.

 

Nearly half an hour later, Harry had finally tracked down the deer he’d been scent-tracking and was moments from sinking his claws into it when the deer’s head suddenly jerked to the side and an arrow stuck up out of its head as it crashed into the wet leaves and sticks, dead. Harry crouched into a defensive position and faced the other predator in the forest with him. Harry released a low, threatening growl as something stepped out from behind a tree and Harry’s night vision immediately identified the creature before him.

 

Harry stopped growling, but didn’t step out of his tense, defensive position as the Centaur slowly approached. He’d found almost nothing on dark creature hierarchy in relation to Izakis, just that they had influence of some kind with a few creatures, which is why Harry was taken completely aback when the Centaur before him dropped his chin to his chest and dropped onto the shins of his two front legs, an obvious show of submission, no matter what species you belong to. Though, as Harry thought more about it, from what he already knew about Izakis from that book, Izakis were the protectors of many different life forms, not just humans. That was bound to create some respect for the Izaki people among other beings.

 

“I did not mean to impose on your hunt, please accept my offering.” He said and gestured toward the still hot deer before rising once again and galloping away. Harry was stunned into silence. From what he knew, Centaurs were _extremely_ proud creatures. Respect or not, for such an open display of submission, it was no small thing.

 

Harry shook himself and turned back to the deer in front of him. He got down on all fours and sniffed the arrow, then pulled it out and sniffed cautiously, making sure that it wasn’t poisonous and the meat he was about to eat wasn’t poisoned either.

 

When he determined that it was clean, he tossed the arrow aside and sunk his claws into warm meat. The thought of eating an animal raw like this would have rolled Harry’s stomach a month ago, but after hunting for the first time a week after the inheritance in the woods surrounding his estate, nothing made Harry feel more alive and close to his Izaki side than hunting in full form. When his teeth sunk into the first steaming chunk of meat, Harry moaned at the incredible flavor bursting in his mouth with each bite.

 

By the time Harry had eaten his fill, his hands were thickly coated with drying blood, as was his mouth, with drips of blood trailing down his chin, neck, and over his chest. Harry was so engrossed in his meal that he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps into they came to a sudden halt and he heard a loud gasp. Harry whipped around, claws and teeth bared, ready to fight. But he paused when he saw who had snuck up on him.

 

Severus Snape was still as a statue, hand clutching a glass jar half full of small silvery moon myosotis flowers that were known to grow in certain parts of the forbidden forest. Severus’s black eyes were wide and flicking from Harry’s bloody claws, to his blood stained mouth, to his black wings and back again. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in heavy frustration. He’d been foolish to let his guard down and now he’d been caught on only his _second day!_ Deciding to take control of the situation before Severus could either panic or send a killing curse his way, Harry spoke.

 

“I suppose we now have a lot to discuss. Follow me, I need to retrieve my things, and then we can go back to your office and have a private conversation.” And Harry gave Severus no time to respond, he began walking in the direction of his clothes, which weren’t far considering the deer had circled back once it realized Harry was gaining on it. Harry knew that he could have the conversation as they walked, but wanted to give Severus time to regain his wits about him and process what he’d seen.

 

Once Harry had redressed, cleaned the blood from his person, hidden his Izaki side once again, and returned to the castle with Severus still trailing a little ways behind him, he allowed Severus to lead the way to his office. Not because he didn’t know where it was, but it would only feel very strange leading the older man to his own office as if Severus was the one in trouble.

 

When they were in Severus’s office, Harry cast a detection spell and then a privacy and silencing spell on room. Nothing said in this room would reach Dumbledore’s ears, he would make sure of it. They both sat down and Harry watched Snape in silence, mentally gauging the man and his possible reactions.

 

“Are you an Izaki?” Severus spoke first, thoroughly shocking Harry by his blunt words.

 

“Yes. How do you know about them?” Harry asked carefully.

 

“Draco is one as well. As if I wouldn’t know that my godson had received a creature inheritance.” Severus scoffed and sneered, seemingly back to normal. “Though I never expected _Harry Potter_ to become such a dark creature.” There was less venom than Harry expected and it made him feel a bit lighter knowing that the man’s hatred was easing, if only a little. “Then, I suppose that _‘revelation’_ you had over the summer involved your inheritance?” Snape stated more than asked.

 

“Partially.” Harry said after a long silence and Severus’s eyes narrowed slightly on Harry.

 

“Now I’m curious, what other events happened to turn Harry Potter into a Slytherin?” Snape’s voice was snarky, but he seemed a bit more distracted and it didn’t relay with the same bite as it usually did.

 

Harry leaned back in his high backed leather chair and weighed the prospect of telling Snape anything. It would feel strange to tell a man he was most certainly not close with, but from what he knew about Severus, if there was anyone on the staff at Hogwarts that might be inclined to even _listen_ to Harry’s claims as to why Dumbledore is no saint, it would surely be this man.

 

“Has Dumbledore ever discussed with you my living arrangements before Hogwarts and over the summers between school years?” Harry asked carefully. Severus seemed confused by the sudden, seemingly unrelated, question, but answered anyway.

 

“He mentioned that you’ve stayed with relatives of Lily’s, muggles if I’m not mistaken.” He shrugged, confused.

 

“Ah, yes. The Dursley’s. Since you didn’t even know their names I doubt he talks about them much. You see, Petunia Dursley—Lily’s sister—has always harbored a deep jealousy and hatred for everything to do with the wizarding world because she had been born a squib while her sister was a witch. When she married Vernon Dursley, they completely shunned Lily and everyone else on Petunias side of the family. They had their precious son, Dudley, and would give him the moon if they could. All the while, fostering and nurturing a poisonous hatred and disgust for all things magical.

 

“So, one night, when they found the orphaned son of Petunia’s dreaded sister on their front step, they despised the child for representing everything they saw as evil in the world. Raised in a house of hatred, the boy was made to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, locked in from the outside and given scraps to keep him from dropping dead. When the boy turned seven, he was deemed old enough to take a punch and a good bashing for his birthday every year. They boy did all the chores in the house and was given the ill-fitting hand-me-downs of his chubby spoiled cousin. The boy was treated like a slave.

 

“When the child turned eleven and received his first Hogwarts letter, it had been addressed to the ‘cupboard under the stairs’.” Harry paused, allowing Snape a moment to process what that meant. Severus sucked in a shocked breath and his wide horrified eyes filled with understanding. Dumbledore _knew!_ “The young boy was swept away into a world of magic, where everyone thought he was _special_ and not a _‘freak’._ When the year ended and Harry realized he had to return to the Dursley’s for summer vacation, he asked the kindhearted Headmaster if he could live somewhere else, or even stay at Hogwarts. The Headmaster simply smiled, patted his head, and sent him back to his relatives.

 

“Over the years, the summers became harder to bare and his insistence at being placed somewhere else grew, yet the Headmaster kept laughing it off or guilt tripping the boy into going back so that no one he loved would be in danger of the Dark Lord. Even his friends, who saw his bruises, his scars, who saw how thin and sickly he looked, said nothing when he returned each year, looking worse than the last. Finally, a few days before his 17th birthday, Vernon beat the boy and locked him in the cupboard. Two days later, the boy heard his aunt and uncle’s plans to just not let him out this time, to wait for him to starve and die and claim he ran away. It was on the brink of death, in a fog of dehydration, that the boy received his inheritance and was saved.”

 

Harry leaned back in his chair, watching as Severus closed his eyes and took a minute to himself to process the no doubt overwhelming story he’d just heard. When Severus opened his eyes again, the look in them when they gazed at Harry was different. It wasn’t pitying, but _understanding_.

 

“ _That_ is the reason I switched houses, the realization of that old man’s manipulations and the apathy of those that I thought were friends is why I switched. Among snakes, I don’t need to be the _savior_. I don’t need their loyalty or friendship, I just need to survive until graduation and go on to begin the process of getting more rights for dark creatures such as myself. I don’t need or want your sympathy, I only ask for you to believe what I’ve told you about Dumbledore and possibly pass on the knowledge that he knowingly placed a child in an abusive home, at the right time.” Harry stood and Severus followed suit.

 

“I trust that what I’ve told you about my past and also my inheritance will not be passed on to _anyone_ without my permission first. Especially Draco.” Harry added when he remembered what Severus had said about Draco being his godson.

 

“Yes, of course.” Severus pulled his office door open as Harry took down all of the wards and privacy spells as he walked out. The moment Harry stepped outside of the office, he felt a mild tugging in his chest that told him the wards on his door had been touched. Harry cursed out loud and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and fore finger under his now unnecessary glasses. Severus raised an eyebrow at Harry’s sudden outburst, but all he said was a quick goodbye and jogged down the hallway in the direction of the Slytherin dorms.

 

 ֎

 

When Harry reached the dorms, he ignored the curious gazes and continued quickly to his dorm room. The wards he’d set up were fixed so that if anyone besides Harry attempted to open his door they would suddenly get the strong urge that there was something else they needed to do. Though, if that person intended ill will on Harry, they would be paralyzed from the neck down until Harry himself released them.

 

When Harry saw a figure lying flat on the ground in front of his door, he felt smug that it had worked, and then very confused when he neared and saw that the person struggling on the ground to regain control of their body was Draco Malfoy. When Harry stood over the struggling form, Draco glared up him with eyes full of contempt and hatred.

 

 _“Bloody Freak!”_ He spat at Harry and Harry knelt down near Draco’s head, and he sniffed lightly. Draco didn’t smell like Draco, Harry felt no pull or tingle towards him. Harry breathed in deeper, catching a strange but familiar smell. Whoever this was, it wasn’t Draco it was someone who’d used polyjuice. Harry huffed and smirked, people still thought that he and Draco were the worst of rivals, and if Draco wasn’t currently trying to _mate_ with Harry, perhaps Harry would have believed it.

 

Instead of undoing the paralyzing hex, Harry stood back up, wand in hand for show, and levitated a sneering, enraged Draco-doppelganger into the Slytherin common rooms. All eyes turned towards Harry and his hostage as the cursing Draco-ish was levitated further into the room and Harry sat down on the end of a leather couch, still levitating the non-Draco.

 

A few curious Slytherins approached him and asked what he was doing with Draco Malfoy, but he said nothing as he waited. The polyjuice would wear off eventually, and when it did, he wanted to know who had tried to sneak into his room with ill will and use Draco’s face to do it to spark up a fight within the Slytherin house. Also, Harry wasn’t sure how long this person had walked around with Draco’s face and what sorts of trouble they may have caused with it. Here, in public with many eyes watching, they would have proof that Draco had not done any possibly-horrible thing this person had wanted people to think he’d done.

 

Twenty minutes later, while Harry was reading a book casually, still levitating a Draco-clone, the real Draco Malfoy strode into the common room with his little gang looking severely confused. Once his eyes landed on Harry and slid down to the squirming Draco#2, understanding crossed his expression. He walked slowly up to the fake with the promise of pain glinting in his eyes and everyone waited with bated breath whilst Harry continued to read.

 

Harry heard the struggling increase and he finally set his book down on the table and turned to look at his hostage as he panicked as his face began to morph and bubble and resize itself. Harry quirked a brow when immaculate white hair turned a fiery orange and flawless fair skin was dotted with freckles. In front of the entire Slytherin common room, which had gathered quite a crowd, the Draco lookalike transformed into a panicked Ronald Weasley.

 

Harry sighed heavily, weighed down by the knowledge that his ex-best friend had moved past apathy and now full blown hated him. Harry waved a careless hand over Ron and he dropped to the floor with a painful sounding crack. Good. Harry thought with a bit of disgust.

 

Harry stood from his seat and made his way through the small crowd back to his dorm room. He knew Draco was following behind him, and didn’t stop him from also following him into his room. He just closed the door with a bit of wandless magic behind Draco and shrugged off his outer robe, tossing it onto his trunk while loosening his tie a bit and undoing the top two buttons of his dress shirt.

 

“I thought my night would be so good to! I hunted earlier, but now I can barely even feel it.” Harry groaned, exhausted, and he took off his glasses, setting them on his desk. When Harry looked back at Draco, his eyes were practically glowing with a hunger that could never be satisfied by food. Harry on the other hand, wasn’t in the mood for warning Draco for every teasing advance he made, so he just ignored the riled up Izaki as he pulled off his Slytherin tie and began unbuttoning his shirt, wanting to go straight to bed once Draco had said what he needed to say. Hell, he might go to bed _before_ if the blasted fool didn’t hurry it up. Harry said as much and Draco seemed to snap out of it, mostly.

 

“Thank you for clearing my name, I know the rest of the houses already think the worst of me, but I’d rather not let them have proof that they were right. And also . . . I’m sorry about the Weasel, it couldn’t have been easy for you.” Draco sounded slightly distracted the longer he spoke and his breath hitched when Harry slipped off his dress shirt and shifted into his Izaki form, his huge black wings stretching out once before folding up comfortably again.

 

Harry had his back to Draco and was slipping his feet out of his shoes and socks when he felt a gentle hand on his wing, caressing it, and his eyes automatically closed. A low thrumming noise filled the room as Harry’s body reacted on its own once again. Harry felt Draco’s warm breath against his neck, standing close as one hand slowly stroked his wing and the other slid amazingly slowly up his sensitive side.

 

But of course it was too good to last when moments later, Harry’s Izaki side seemed to finally wake up and Harry spun, claws raking down Draco’s chest and a ferocious snarl replaced the pseudo-purring noises. Harry’s human side felt a flash of guilt for a moment, this is until Harry looked at Draco’s face and he doubted the nutter even noticed. The front of his shirt was in tatters and the edges of the sliced fabric were turning red from his wounds, but Draco was smirking like Harry had just admitted to wanting to return his advances but was acting coy.

 

Harry almost asked Malfoy if he was alright, but his Izaki refused immediately and clamped his lips closed. Harry was grateful a moment later when he remembered that any sort of kindness or comfort immediately after an advance, even if he had attacked, would be a sign that Harry accepted the perusal of a mate-ship, which he most certainly did _not want_. . . yet.

 

It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t attracted to Malfoy, quite the opposite actually. Harry had been questioning his sexuality for quite some time, but it wasn’t until the end of sixth year that Harry realized he was gay. The problem was that Harry didn’t want to start something that might get in the way of his work.

 

As long as Harry continued to refuse Draco, nothing would come of it and they would both go on with their lives. Harry was fairly sure Draco didn’t want it either, but was too caught up in in the instinct and thrill of being around another Izaki to realize exactly _who_ he was trying to court.

 

Harry watched as Draco left, a smirk firmly on the blonde’s lips. Harry locked and warded the door behind Draco, wanting to keep out any snakes that wanted to bite him in the night

 

The next morning, as Harry was leaving the dorms, he came across Severus, who stopped him, seeming to need something from him. Snape’s expression was severe and slightly worried and Harry became concerned about whatever news Severus was about to relay.

 

“The Headmaster would like you to go up to his office immediately. I can . . . I can go with you if you wish . . . ?” Severus stumbled over the last part, looking so uncomfortable that Harry had to laugh at the audacity of it.

 

“No need, Severus, but thank you. I can handle the old man just fine, I was actually expecting to be called in yesterday as soon as word had gotten out about my transfer. With his precious _savior_ now in Slytherin, everyone will either accept that not all Slytherins are bad or admit that I am perhaps _not_ the savior. Either way, I’m sure he’s throwing quite a fit right about now.” Harry’s smug expression was particularly amusing to Snape and Harry saw a flicker of pride in his beady black eyes at Harry’s well-orchestrated maneuver.

 

Severus nodded and continued on his way, as did Harry, with a change in destination.

 

Harry walked into the Headmaster’s office with poise and sat in one of the plush leather chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore smiled brightly at Harry and offered him some tea, which Harry took happily, but when Harry raised the cup up towards his face to take a sip, the faintest smell of a rare and quite illegal calming drought was detected among the sweet vapors. Harry, while in his search for more information on Izakis, had found a few rare books that he’d read for nothing more than interest. At least, that’s what he thought was his motivation for reading it, but certain parts had stuck with him well enough for him to suspect his Izaki side was trying to protect his more vulnerable human side. His senses weren’t as sharp in this form and it would take more effort to sense danger.

 

Harry set down the tea without drinking any and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed for a moment before his face settle back into its gentle, sparkly expression from before. Harry kept his expression blank as he folded his hands in his lap and crossed one leg over the other, waiting for Dumbledore to begin talking.

 

“Harry, my dear boy, in light of recent events I truly believe that you should have come to me first before switching your house so late in your education.” Albus tried to sound like a disappointed parent, but the effect was lost on Harry.

 

“It was unnecessary to involve you. Changing houses is between me and my head of house alone.” Harry stated diplomatically. He was proud of himself for not going into a rage when Dumbledore tried to act like his parent.

 

“But what of your friends, Harry? They must be feeling betrayed since you left, especially Ronald, and we both know that the pair hold certain . . . _biases_ towards Slytherins. Honestly, Harry, it seems to me like you’ve put no thought at all of your friends into making this decision!” Harry could practically hear the silent ‘tsk’-ing unsaid in the air between them and it only brought his simmering anger to a violent boil.

 

“You’re absolutely right, Headmaster.” Harry said in a venomously sweet voice and Dumbledore looked rather smug for a moment, not catching the murderous glare aimed at him. “I didn’t think of anyone but myself when I decided to switch houses. But then again, why would I? My decision was made to make me feel more comfortable and happy, why would I set those things aside for someone else? Headmaster, I think you overestimated my sense of self-sacrifice.” Albus Dumbledore’s smile slowly slipped away and his face became more and more red.

 

“I mean, shouldn’t I be doing what’s best for _me_ before anyone else? Are you suggesting that it would be selfish to do something for myself and not try my best to please others around me? Is this the advice you give to all of your student, Albus, or is it just me? There is a difference between helping someone and sacrificing your own wellbeing for them. If you cannot see this difference, then I feel obligated to question whether or not you are fit to guide these next generations into adulthood. To be passing on such harmful lessons to _children_ . . . it is certainly worrisome.” Harry hid his smile as Dumbledore floundered for what to say in response. Taking advantage of Dumbledore’s lack of coherent speech, Harry continued.

 

“Hmm . . . actually, now that I think about it, you _did_ send a child, who had begged for your protection, back into a home, _knowing_ that said home was horribly abusive— _for years_. Now, was there a personal vendetta behind this recurring event, or has your judgement truly been crippled by time, along with your body.” Harry quirked a brow.

 

Harry had just played his proverbial _‘check-mate’,_ and he was very much enjoying the show as the portraits of past Headmasters around the room began to shout at Dumbledore, demanding the truth, and one or two even left their portrait, no doubt to tell others the rumors they’d heard and wanted to know the truth behind it. Though Harry doubted they would get a concrete answer, since only three people currently at Hogwarts knew the validity of Harry’s claims, but the rumors would be enough to set a few people on the old man’s trail and perhaps even stop all of the blind faith nearly the entire student body and staff gave the fool.

 

 _“ENOUGH! I will_ not _tolerate such wild accusations based on no evidence whatsoever!”_ Dumbledore bellowed, several portraits jumped back in their seats at the sudden outburst.

 

Harry calmly stood, a pleasant smile on his face.

 

“Thank you for the tea, Headmaster. I hope that this discussion has been enlightening for you. Next time, _I’ll_ make the tea.” With that subtle threat hanging in the air between them, Harry turned his back on the fuming wizard, knowing he wouldn’t dare try anything with so many eyes on him, and left his office. Harry very much anticipated the impending show.

 

֎ 

 

The first three weeks had turned out to be more entertaining than Harry had originally hoped for. Rumors about Albus spread like a cold in the dormitories, causing many Slytherins and Ravenclaws to become wary of the Headmaster. All the while many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs vehemently denied the accusations.

 

Ron’s hatred seemed to only grow with each passing day, but Hermione was too wrapped up in Ron to really outwardly express any opinions she might have had on Harry. Though, not all of his former friends had forsaken him, Harry still occasionally chatted with Neville, Luna, and Dean when he ran into them or they shared a class together.

 

Though Harry still had yet to accept any of Draco’s advances yet, the two had become quite close. Harry hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter. Everywhere he went and everything he did, Draco somehow managed to come around a corner or step out of a classroom at just the right time, immediately finding his way into whatever plans Harry had made, or even when he had no plans the bloody bastard was there! Harry frequently checked to make sure that the Marauders Map was still folded up in his trunk and hadn’t been pinched by the blonde.

 

At first, Harry had been weary of Draco’s constant presence, but once Harry stopped thinking about his instincts to refuse absolutely anything from Draco, he began to relax and found himself spending nearly his entire day with the tall blonde. It got to the point that sunrise to sunset with the young Malfoy felt _normal_. Draco was actually quite funny and pleasant to be around when Harry’s Izaki wasn’t demanding to be released so that he could tear into Draco.

 

It took only three days for Draco to begin sitting right next to Harry during every meal. And only another few days for his gang of snakes to begin joining them. Pansy, in particular, enjoyed it the most after Draco. Harry could tell she just _loved_ being able to rub the Gryffindor’s noses in into the fact that their Golden Boy was now a prideful Slytherin and was often found among his personal company. Harry knew it wasn’t a ‘groupie’ sort of thing, more like Pansy was quite the vindictive type. Her antics amused Harry to no end and he found himself beginning to truly enjoy her company.

 

Blaise and Theo seemed to keep his company for more political motivations, not that he held it against them, Harry himself was in the process of negotiating a few alliances with powerful people through their children. The vying for a prominent political standing for when he graduates was going smashingly well so far.

 

Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, still seemed confused about whether or not they were supposed to still hate Harry, and so they both kept their distance whenever he was around. Fair enough.

 

Dumbledore, during this time, was trying his best to discredit all of the rumors floating around the school. The previous Headmasters had had the grace and forethought to keep Harry’s name out of the rumors, but Harry was sure at least a few students and staff had caught on to Dumbledore’s glares from across the dining hall, aimed at him.

 

Despite Dumbledore and a few in Gryffindor’s efforts, the rest of the student body hadn’t come to hate Harry now that he donned green robes instead of red. Even though it annoyed Harry immensely that the rest of the school and wizarding world still seemed obsessed with their Golden Boy, he was happy to see that interhouse communication had greatly increased since the beginning of his seventh year. Though, if he was being completely honest, he was more than slightly disappointed to still be revered by the masses as the savior Albus had depicted him as.

 

Finally getting some privacy from the prying eyes and ears of Hogwarts, Harry snuck up to the astronomy tower and enjoyed the cool night air as he gazed up at the glittering night sky through a wide circular frame of clouds.

 

Harry sighed heavily and his shoulders drooped a good inch or so. He thought about his life before that hot July night and how much had and hadn’t changed since then. He still tensed up whenever he heard loud footfalls on hard wood floors. Some nights he couldn’t stand to sleep in the closed confines of his bed hangings, feeling like he was back in that dreadful cupboard. Some nights he couldn’t stand to sleep at all, haunted by nightmares he wished weren’t actual memories. Most days Harry was able to forget and go about his daily activities normally, but occasionally a rather . . . difficult nightmare or flashback had him feeling either raw like an exposed nerve, or bone-chillingly numb for at least the rest of the day.

 

Harry was almost positive that Draco was beginning to notice his sensitivity to certain words or how some days he looked like absolute shite for getting no sleep and would barely speak even when spoken to on those days. No matter how well Harry tried to hide it, Draco always gave him an odd look whenever Harry acted strangely.

 

Like when Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were discussing their summers in France or attending professional quidditch games or some famous person they swear they saw selling street food at a vendors cart in London. When they asked Harry what he’d done, he gave vague answers about rare books he’d found and daily life at the Potter Mansion. Pansy had looked confused and said she heard that Harry had only moved into the Potter estate _after_ his inheritance of his lordship and she wanted to know what he’d done for the entire two months before that, what he’d done with his relatives. Harry had quickly replied with saying that they didn’t get out much and his summer before moving was rather boring. And there was that look again, Draco’s forehead had scrunched up and he settled a scrutinizing gaze on Harry as if all of his secrets would come seeping out of his black curls.

 

Harry’s thoughts were permeated a sudden and familiar ecstatic rush that ran up his spine occasionally when he was around Draco. It had been happening more and more frequently lately. When Harry finally asked Draco about it, he said he’d felt it many times as well, and he thinks it might be because at those times their Izaki’s are closest to the surface and they were reacting to another Izaki in proximity that was a prospective mate.

 

Harry didn’t turn when Draco came up from behind him and stood next to him, looking out over the forbidden forest thoughtfully.

 

“Finally escaped your throngs of worshipers?” Draco quipped and Harry laughed authentically, surprising both Draco and himself, since today had been one of those ‘bad’ days. And just in general, Harry didn’t laugh convincingly around people anymore. Perhaps that part of him is coming back, heal ever so slowly. Draco watched him intently, fascinated. Harry turned around and leaned his back against the railing and crossing his arms over his chest, promptly sticking his nose high into the air.

 

“Obviously not, since _you’re_ here! Aren’t you the president of my fan club or something? I distinctly remember, in our fourth year, you making and distributing badges that said ‘Potter is Dreamy!’ on them, your obsession started quite early.” Harry mocked him, feeling grateful towards him for taking his mind off of what had made his so dreary, even if he’d been doing it before he’d shown up.

 

Draco scoffed. “There is something seriously wrong with your head, Potter! That is _not_ what they said.” Draco sneered and used Harry’s last name in reminisce of their rivalry in the past.

 

“But it’s what you were thinking!” Harry retorted childishly. Draco grinned and shivers went down Harry’s spine.

 

“Oh I assure you, what I’m thinking is not quite so . . . _innocent.”_ The mirth had been sucked out of the air at the gravely tone of Draco’s voice as his silver eyes pierced into Harry like a hot and cold blade. They seemed to do that a lot lately.

 

Draco took a step closer to Harry, and Harry, for once, didn’t step back or swipe at him. Not _yet_ , anyway. Another step forward brought them only half a foot apart. Draco’s head was tilted low, his hot breath cascading over Harry’s ear and neck.

 

“I can understand you rejecting me, I would step down immediately if you actually had no interest in me, but I can see that you do and I don’t understand why you won’t admit it, even to yourself. Is there a reason you won’t allow yourself to be happy? To give in and do something for _you_ for once? You say that this whole fight with the Ministry is what you want, to fight for more freedoms, but we both know it’s for the other Izaki still in containment. You’re still living for others, and though you’ve gotten better at not sacrificing all that you have for your cause, you’re still denying yourself things that you know there’s no need to.” Draco’s voice was gentle and soft, but firm as he spoke into Harry’s ear, one hand slowly trailing the tips of its fingers up and down the length of Harry’s arm. It was inviting, but not pushy, Draco was clearly giving him the option to pull away.

 

Harry was breathing rather loudly for his own ears as he hesitantly lifted his hand and placed it on Draco’s warm cheek. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry pulled back a few inches and turned Draco’s face towards his own. Leaning in, Harry’s heart thudded thickly in his chest, like his blood had been turned into molasses and his heart had to double its efforts in circulating the fluids.

 

When Harry’s lips were only inch from Draco’s, he closed his eyes. A full beat later, their mouths connected and Harry felt like a million tiny suns were exploding just below the surface of his skin. The molasses in his bloodstream was replaced with adrenaline and Harry vaguely feared for the integrity of his ribcage.

 

Draco’s large hands slipped under Harry’s shirt and skimmed over the skin of his back and any semblance of composure that Harry _may_ have had before dived straight off of the Astronomy tower. Harry opened his mouth to breathe and Draco took the opening to slip his tongue into Harry’s mouth and begin exploring. Harry tasted the echoes of sweet, refreshing fruit on Draco’s tongue and Harry’s toes curled in his shoes at the sensations dancing over his skin with every shared breath and skin to skin caress.

 

Harry hadn’t even noticed his Izaki form had come out until one of Draco’s hands had slipped out from under his shirt and he began softly running his hand down a folded wing and Harry keened at the sensation. Draco moved his swollen lips over Harry’s jaw and down onto Harry’s neck where he slowly kissed and sucked and nipped at the skin there, pulling an utterly besotted whimper from Harry, who was tilting his head back and had one hand tangled firmly in his silky white blonde hair and the other clutching desperately at the front of Draco’s sweater.

 

The rolling waves of pleasure reached new heights and Harry let out such a ravaged moan that it would make even the most sexually confident and experienced bed-dwellers blush. Harry’s legs gave out so suddenly, without any warning, that he and Draco both stumbled together and fell back onto the cool stone floors.

 

Harry landed on top of Draco, resting between his legs with his face down by Draco’s chest. Harry didn’t even seemed to notice the change and had begun nuzzling his face against Draco’s chest, eyes closed, and emitting a very satisfied purring noise as he continued to rub his face and hands over Draco’s torso, his glasses having been thrown to the side very early on in the snogging process. Draco was at once perplexed and absolutely endeared by this new and adorable docile side of Harry he’d never seen before.

 

After a few minutes of Draco watching what he figured to be an instinctual act of a submissive towards their dominant, Harry began softly sniffing different parts of Draco’s chest and neck. When he seemed satisfied by something, he finally seemed to realize what he was doing and he looked up at Draco, who wore a barmy grin, and Harry blushed a dark crimson.

 

Harry, embarrassed and flushed, cleared his throat and began getting up when he finally realized what was different about Draco. For the first time Harry got to see Draco’s transformed appearance and he was caught completely off guard. Draco’s eyes gleamed with an internal light behind the haunting silver. His lips were slightly parted and Harry could just barely see Draco’s perfect white teeth and dangerous looking fangs. Underneath Draco, Harry saw the tops of his white-blonde wings rising up past his shoulders and head.

 

Harry felt mesmerized and had the urge to reach out and begin exploring Draco’s dominant form, but he quickly reigned those impulses back in. 

 

“You do . . . realize what this means, right?” Draco asked hesitantly, trying to catch Harry’s eyes to make sure he was paying attention. “If you don’t want to start this mate-ship, I’ll understand and not read into this. But if not—” Draco was cut off midsentence when Harry pushed up from where he still laid on top of Draco, propelling his body with his hands and toes, and gently pressed his lips to Draco’s.

 

This kiss was slow and sensual, with the same timelessness of eternal lovers. When Harry finally _did_ pull away, they were both light headed and slightly breathless. A small, curling smirk pulled at Harry’s lips and his eyes moved from Draco’s lips up to his molten eyes.

 

“I know _exactly_ what it means, and I fully intend to fulfill this mate-ship. You’re right, it's about bloody time I did something just for myself.” Harry had meant it to sound cocky and teasing, but the last part had come out far too sheepish and made Harry wince internally.

 

Instead of letting that puzzled look on Draco’s face linger, Harry got up and smoothed his hand over his uniform in a useless attempt to unruffled them. Draco stood swiftly and elegantly after Harry and took a confident step towards him. Standing within mere inches, Draco lifts his hands to right Harry’s tie, a positively _devious_ look on his face that caused Harry’s pulse to quicken and his face to heat as Draco’s long pale fingers brushed lightly against his throat.

 

“Don’t forget that, _Harry_. I will not restrain myself just because your Gryffindors are watching.” The way Draco said his name was like a cold, delectable finger down Harry’s spine and he was tempted to make those ungodly sounds again just from the overwhelming sensations assaulting his body.

 

“They’re not ‘ _my_ _Gryffindors_ ’, remember? You can do as you like as long as it doesn’t interfere with business.” Harry dictated firmly, even as his blazing green eyes caught Draco’s, full of heat and oh so inviting.

 

That night they returned to the Slytherin dorms and went their separate ways to their rooms. The students still sitting out in the common room wondering what on earth had changed between the foes-turned-friends in the time since dinner.

 


	3. Chapter Three: Transparency

 

The next morning, Harry left his rooms feeling oddly giddy, but went about his business as normal, not letting anything show on his face. It was for this reason that he’d decided to leave earlier for breakfast than he usually did, if this is what _he_ was feeling, he couldn’t imagine what Draco must be feeling after Harry had finally given in to his advances. This by no means meant anything permanent, the mateship wasn't complete yet. If they were humans, this would be more like a courtship.

 

Harry sat regally at the center of the Slytherin dining table, a paper in one hand and a fork with diced potatoes speared on the prongs in the other. He mindlessly forked food into his mouth as he gave the paper most of his attention, only stopping occasionally to refill an emptied portion of his plate. Since leaving the Dursleys’ ‘care’, it took Harry quite a while to regain his appetite, and once he had, it took even longer to stop gorging on the food he was given like it was his last meal.

 

When a flash of white hair at the entryway caught Harry’s attention, he only took a moment to appreciate the sight of the blonde—quickly striding down the rows of tables towards him with a slight halo of light around his head when he passed under windows of streaming morning light—before returning to a particularly interesting article.

 

The article detailed several suspicious meetings Lucius Malfoy had supposedly held with other suspected Deatheaters and Voldemort supporters. The lack of evidence was atrocious, but Harry knew that whenever the blasted fear-mongers mentioned ‘Voldemort’ and ‘Malfoys’ together, the wizarding populace was bound to believe it. In Harry’s opinion, they’re all a bunch of duffers for believing such shite.

 

Draco slid onto the bench next to Harry, sitting close enough for their shoulders and legs to be touching. Harry didn’t mind, in fact, he felt a tension he hadn’t noticed before melt away, leaving him relaxed and content. When Draco saw what Harry had been reading, he huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

 

“That bloody paper could say that my father was part _fish_ under his robes and the whole damn world would believe it! All a bunch of tossers if you ask me.” Draco grumbled under his breath.

 

Harry cast a wandless silencing spell around them, keeping any curious ears from picking up parts of their conversation.

 

“You don’t think your father is in support of, or working for, Voldemort?” Harry asked curiously. He’d known before this, that even if Lucius _is_ still an active Deatheater, he would still like to discuss business with him. Over the summer, Harry had uncovered some very peculiar things that led him to believe that Voldemort was not his greatest threat. Not that Harry’s all go for team-V, the psychopath is still a mass murderer and completely off his trolley, but not everything is as clear cut as it used to be. Harry can’t take anything Dumbledore has told him at face value anymore, which means everything is still mostly up in the air right now until he can pin it down with outside evidence.

 

“Of course not! Yes, he made some very stupid mistakes in his youth, but he has been unwillingly bound to that nutter for so long that he would rather cut off his own arm, dark mark and all, than serve that lunatic any longer. Despite what people think, a dark mark isn’t inescapable.” Draco lifted his chin slightly into the air, looking utterly spiteful, and in Harry’s eyes, adorable.

 

“Really? And how did he manage to get out of it? Because last time I checked, he most certainly had both arms.” Harry smiled at Draco indulgently, now thoroughly curious. Harry distantly noticed the rest of their Slytherin group sitting down around them.

 

“Izaki magic is _very_ powerful, and should not be underestimated.” Draco winked and began to eat his breakfast, looking rather pleased with himself for saying something that had impressed Harry.

 

“So I take it your parents already know?” Harry inquired.

 

“Yes, they were quite proud when my inheritance came, actually. Izaki inheritances’ among pureblood lines have been revered for an exceptionally long time. Though less common these days, it is considered a symbol of power and status for a family if their child becomes an Izaki. Dark creature or not, any sort of power gain that is an advantage to the family is considered a good thing.” Harry thought he saw Draco puff up a little as he spoke, and he found it terribly endearing.

 

“Have you told them about me yet?” Harry didn’t let the anticipation leak into his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to look the blond in the eye as he spoke. Instead he forked some more eggs into his mouth.

 

“I’ve told them that I have found a prospective mate, but not who. I would not tell them such a thing without discussing it with you beforehand. It is my role as the Dominant to make sure that you come first in everything that I do, even before family.” Draco declared confidently, as if there was no doubt in his mind that this is exactly what he wanted. Harry’s chest swelled with approval and he couldn’t help smiling to himself.

 

Harry canceled the silencing bubble around them as he folded his paper. Once the noise of the dining hall flooded in around them, Harry finally gave notice to the others around them as he began to politely devour the rest of his food. Blaise and Pansy were both watching them suspiciously, while Theo was more concerned with The Daily Prophet. Harry ignored the others’ pointed looks and continued eating.

 

Just as Harry was finishing off the rest of his breakfast, a snow white owl glided elegantly down from the rafters and softly dropped a brown paper wrapped package in front of Harry. He smiled at Hedwig and the large bird flew off after filching a piece of buttered toast right from Draco’s hand. Harry unwrapped what appeared to be a book with no title. He curiously cracks the slightly aged cover open and the first and only line written in sharp scrawl on the first page stopped him dead.

 

_To Harry, may you find the answers that I could not . . ._

_-Padfoot_

 

Harry gently closed the handwritten book and slipped it into his book bag. His chest tightened painfully as memories of his deceased godfather resurfaced in his mind. Sirius’s death was still fresh and raw in Harry’s head. Afterwards, Harry was almost inconsolable and everyone had turned away from the display of such grief. They hadn’t wanted to see their precious hero fall apart like that, so vulnerable and _human._

 

Immediately after Sirius’s death, he’d blamed himself for everything that was happening, for all of the people around him who’d been hurt. It was with this guilt and grief that he’d been left at the mercy of the Dursley’s. For a while, Harry had truly believed that he deserved it.

 

Draco suddenly grabbed Harry’s hand under the table and gave it a tight squeeze. Harry looked up at Draco’s face, realizing that Draco had noticed his quick change in demeanor and looked quite concerned. Though he hid it well so that the others wouldn’t pick up on it. Harry swept his thumb over Draco’s knuckles twice in return.

 

“I’ll tell you later, but right now I need to check this out privately.” Harry said in a hushed tone. Draco nodded once and Harry got up and left without another word. Draco trusted Harry and knew that, right now, he needed to be alone to sort through whatever was happening. Even if his Izaki side was screaming at him to track down whatever was causing Harry such distress and to dispose of it permanently. Preferably with fire.

 

֎ 

 

Harry didn’t open the book again for the rest of the day. He knew that it contained something Padfoot had wanted him to know, but only after his death, only unless he couldn’t tell him in person. Which means, whatever Sirius had written in that book would most likely be very hard to read and something he’d wanted to keep from Harry for as long as possible. So instead Harry kept the book in his bag and went to all of his classes for the day.

 

Draco hadn’t tried to coax him into conversation or to get him to really do anything all day. Harry was endlessly grateful for Draco’s patience and understanding. His and Draco’s relationship—if that’s the right word for it—was still so new, but the way they reacted to each other, the way they understood nonverbally exactly what the other needed, it made things much easier between them. They were still far off from being mates, but for some divine or mundane reason, they just _fit_ together. It was like sleeping in a bed you’ve slept in your entire life but have no memory of it; it was so familiar yet everything felt new.

 

In early evening, when Harry and Draco had returned to the dorms together, Draco had offered to stay with Harry when he finally read it. He wanted to be there for when Harry exploded, to comfort his little demon, but Harry politely declined. Draco kissed Harry’s forehead gently and left him in front of his door to go into his own room.

 

Once inside, Harry cast several protection and privacy spells on his room before sitting down at his desk and gently taking the leather bound book out of his bag. Harry sat for nearly twenty minutes, just staring at that first page, his eyes tracing each letter and committing the scrawl to memory.

 

Harry finally lifted his hand from under the table and turned the page. . .

 

Apparently Harry wasn’t the only one to question the Headmaster and do a little digging.

 

By the time Harry had finished the book—having never set it down once he’d began reading—Harry was cold with shock and confusion. The other half of the puzzle had just been given to him, a few pieces were still missing, but it was enough. Enough to twist and rip at his insides. Enough to grind his teeth. Enough to dig his fingernails into his palms. Enough to make him tremble with scorching fury.

 

Then it finally happened. Like the popping of aching joints, his collecting magic erupted from just under his skin. He could hear things exploding and shattering all around him, floor boards groaned with the strain and the walls shook with the effort to contain it. It was like a magical bomb had gone off inside of his room. A moment later, his door flew open behind him and his senses were flooded with the presence of Draco.

 

When Draco spun him around, Harry saw that he was in full Izaki form. Draco leaned in and he scanned for any physical harm to Harry or threat still in the room. When he looked back at Harry, he slowly raised his head to look at him and Draco was stunned by the red rimmed, watery emerald eyes that locked on his. Draco’s Izaki features melted away and he cupped the sides of Harry’s face gently. Harry gripped Draco’s wrists tightly, but didn’t push them away, instead he closed his eyes and several tears glided down his smooth porcelain cheeks. Such a sight felt like knives in Draco’s chest with each exhale.

 

He leaned forward slowly and as gently as a shallow exhale, Draco kissed each of Harry’s eyelids, catching falling tears on his lips. Lastly, Draco pressed a long, firm kiss to Harry’s forehead, closing his own eyes. When he felt Harry finally release a shuddering exhale, he pulled Harry close, pressing the side of his face against his chest with one hand softly carding through the short curly hair on the back of Harry’s head with the opposite arm wrapping around Harry’s back protectively.

 

Draco had experienced a couple of short relationships before, consisting mostly of summer flings borne of boredom. He knew that there was a general timeline for how one was supposed to act around the other person, steps and milestones in the relationship with controlled boundaries, but it wasn’t the same with Harry. The weeks they’d spent _not_ despising or trying to kill each other didn’t erase their past together, instead it seemed to fuel what was budding between them.

 

You cannot feel that passionately about someone and have it all just disappear because the circumstances have changed. No, those feelings have not been lost, they’ve just evolved. Draco feels like he knows everything about Harry, and yet, nothing at all. He can read Harry as though he was staring at his reflection, picking up on every glimmer of expression and he knew that Harry could do it to. So with Harry, the steps couldn’t be applied in the same way.

 

They didn’t have long conversations about what they were feeling because the other person already knew, and was taking care of them or it. They didn’t argue over boundaries because they were already understood; Draco had heard of Harry’s activities over the last portion of the summer and he knew that Harry took his work very seriously and wouldn’t allow Draco to interfere.

 

Besides, Harry isn’t a fling, he isn’t a sudden impulse induced by boredom, nor was he just the closest Izaki submissive Draco had found so he settled. He’d encountered plenty of unregistered Izaki during his travels over the summer that would have made exquisite mates, but none of them . . . _fit._

 

It was like, every time he met one, he knew instantly what they were and a very strange sensation filled his body. They best way he can describe it is, it felt . . . bland. Like a filmy substance coated his skin as a buffer to the outside world and all of his senses dulled. He only felt a basic connection through species, and nothing else.

 

Though, when he first encountered Harry at summers end, on the Hogwarts Express, it was like he suddenly wasn’t drowning. His world exploded with color and all he could see was glowing leaf green eyes and plump lips stained by phantom berries. The air was intoxicatingly warm and the indescribable scent in the air melted his insides like butter.

 

Around Harry, Draco felt more clear-headed than ever in his life and he knows, whether they’re together or apart, Draco would give Harry the world if he asked. Draco would rip the stars from the sky just to see Harry smile again. He knows that Harry might think that he’s not serious about courting him, about spending the rest of their lives bonded together, but after spending so much time together and getting to know the man behind the Izaki inheritance, he knows that even if this inheritance had never happened, his feelings towards Harry would have been inevitable. It would have perhaps taken him longer to realize, but the truth of it is inescapable.

 

So Draco, heart aching, held Harry tighter and whispered these gentle truths into his ear to pull Harry back to him, to ease him out of his own mind and keep him from letting whatever had upset him from doing any more damage.

 

Draco had for the most part succeeded in drawing him out of his head. They laid on Harry’s bed for hours, Harry’s head resting on Draco’s shoulder as he played with the soft black curls lazily. Draco had done all of the talking to begin with, describing his inheritance and freeing his father and mother from Voldemort and what it had been like to be around Harry when they’d returned from the summer. He even talked a bit about the other Izakis he’d met, what they’d been like and what they’d taught him.

 

Eventually Harry joined in and talked about his summer after his inheritance. Draco was curious about the part where Harry _moved in_ to the Potter estate in Wales. He’d always figured that Harry had lived there to begin with along with his relatives. Draco wanted to know where he’d lived before, but since Harry wasn’t being forthcoming about the information, he wasn’t going to ask and make Harry uncomfortable when he’d been so upset not that long ago.

 

Then, when they ran out of things to talk about, they simply laid there, staring up at the dark green fabric canopy. Harry’s not sure how long they were submerged in the quiet stillness of the small hours of morning, but suddenly his mouth opened and words were flowing out.

 

“It was a journal of sorts, from Sirius. I’m guessing he had orders in his will to have it sent out after his . . . departure. I’m not sure why it came so late.” Harry’s voice sounded placid, a bit distanced from the entire matter as he spoke. “Sirius had been collecting information, small things that he thought didn’t add up. A lot of it has to do with Dumbledore.” Harry stopped himself before he got worked up again.

 

“It was you wasn’t it? The one who gave Dumbledore the figurative arse-kicking of his life. Good on you!” Draco pulled Harry tighter and poked him in the side. Harry couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes in response. He knew Draco was trying to cheer him up a little, to try and distract him. Honestly, though, if Draco’s distraction techniques involved more proximity and touching, Harry was all for it. Though, it didn’t do much to take away the pitted feeling in Harry’s gut.

 

After that, Draco helped Harry clean up his room. Draco was actually impressed by the amount of magic accidentally released in Harry’s rage, usually magic is very hard to produce under duress. Especially if your conduit is your body itself rather than a wand.

 

Harry crouched down in front of the twisted, lens-less glasses that had been blown off amidst all of the chaos. He thought for a moment about repairing them, but thought better of it and simply tossed them aside. Once everything of value was picked up off of the floor and put back in its rightful place, Harry took care of the rubbish still covering the floor around the room. He swept his hand around him in a complete circle and as his hand passed, the rubbish floated up off of the ground and converged into a spinning ball as if drawn in by a magnet.

 

Once it was all collected into one spot, Harry was about to vanish it when his crumpled, pathetic glasses caught his eye amongst the ball of other broken things. Harry rolled his eyes at his own sentimentality and quickly freed the broken spectacles before the ball was vanished into oblivion. He repaired them with a quick, silent spell and tossed them into one of his desk drawers.

 

He may not need them to see anymore, but they were a reminder. A reminder of all of the things he’s faced and _survived_ over the years while human. His inheritance doesn’t erase his past, it’s just given him the ability to change his future. He’s still the same Harry Potter he was before, he’s not darker or crueler because he turned into a ‘dark creature’, it’s just that now he has a knife in his hand and he won’t be timid about using it.

 

Harry and Draco got back onto the bed once everything was clean. Harry tucked his head down against Draco’s chest while Draco’s gentle hands soothed up and down Harry’s sides. Harry breathed in Draco’s scent deeply, letting it sooth him down to the marrow of his bones. Despite Harry’s brain frantically trying _not_ to process what he’d read in that book, once he was curled up in Draco’s arms and surrounded by his heady scent, Harry fell off into a deep dreamless sleep.

 

 ֎

 

Despite how little they actually slept, both Draco and Harry felt inexplicably well rested the next morning. When they left together for breakfast, the rest of Draco’s roommates gave him a knowing look, but didn’t say anything about it. Nor did they mention Draco’s little disappearing act wasn’t the talk of the school the next morning so Harry figured that the Slytherins who’d figured it out—at least that they were together all night—weren’t spreading it all over school. _Huh, well that’s certainly a pleasant change!_ Harry thought.

 

They were almost to the dining hall when Severus exited a hallway in front of them without seeing the pair. Harry called out to the professor and waved him over when he turned. Severus looked slightly annoyed to be at the beck and call of Harry, which he took a small moment to revel in while the older man walked over to where they had stopped.

 

“Can I help you?” Snape’s baritone voice rumbled in boredom and disdain, though Harry knew the man was harboring a secret growing fondness for him.

 

“Yes, actually. I want you to deliver this to Dumbledore before breakfast is finished.” Harry held out a wax sealed note that would only reveal the actual message to Dumbledore himself. He’d written it this morning while Draco was showering. Can’t have anyone knowing Harry is the one stirring the old man up. Snape raised an incredulous black brow at Harry as he slowly reached out and took the note. They were still far enough away from the hall that no students were around to see.

 

“And what do you suppose I tell him when he asks me why I’ve become your personal messenger? You may have declared your war against him, but do not forget that he thinks I am still his loyal follower.” Snape intoned in a hushed voice.

 

“I was sort of wondering the same thing.” Draco said in a surprised but unshaken tone. Harry looked up at him for the first time since Severus had walked over. “When did the two of you become so close? And does this mean you’re planning on confronting Dumbledore again?” Draco looked back at Harry and all humor drained from his face, replaced by concern and mild apprehension. “He may be old, but the pensioner is quite powerful. I want to be there when you confront him.”

 

Harry put a hand on Draco’s arm, ready to pull him away as soon as he says to Severus, “Tell him you’re doing it as my head of house. If he really starts to push it, flip it and say you know he’s been at odds with me and you’re trying to help him.” Harry didn’t wait from Snape’s reply before he pulled Draco a good ten feet away, silently dismissing him.

 

“I can certainly handle myself without you there. Also, if you come it will spook him, we need to discuss things that at this moment, only he and I know. Right now I have an advantage because he thinks I’ve left all of my friends in Gryffindor and the Slytherins will despise me too much to actually become my friends. This way, he has no one to threaten me with.” Harry said bitterly, knowing Dumbledore would still try to manipulate him if he knew how.

 

“You believe he’s capable of that? What I mean is, I hate the bloke either way, but is this based on evidence or gut feelings?” Draco didn’t sound like he was about to defend the man, so Harry relaxed a little.

 

“Evidence.”

 

“That’s all I needed to know. When you’re ready to fill me in, I’ll fully support you. Just promise me you will, at some point, tell me, alright?” Draco framed Harry’s face with his large hands and brushed his thumb over Harry’s cheek. Harry smiled faintly and nodded once, his hands clasped on Draco’s wrists. Draco tenderly kissed Harry’s forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary, and then they pulled away and walked into breakfast together.

  
 ֎

 

Dumbledore hadn’t taken his eyes off of Harry since the moment he’d walked in. Harry didn’t return his gaze, instead he gripped Draco’s hand tightly under the table and sat as close as he could without climbing into the blonde’s lap. Draco, on his part had been amazing. He’d engage Harry in conversation to distract him and when no one was looking his eyes flashed a solemn silver. Also, Draco would nose the hair behind Harry’s ear, surrounding him in the amazing smell of his potential mate, knowing it was more comforting to Harry than anything else he could have done or said.

 

When they started class, they sat together in the far back corner so no one would pay attention to them or call on Harry while his mind was hundreds of miles away. Halfway through their last class together Harry took a turn for the worst and Draco immediately smelt the change in his emotional state—which was less strange in person than the theory of it—and could tell that Harry’s anxiety was about to make him explode.

 

Before Harry really knew what was happening, Draco had slipped his hand into the back of his robe and under his shirt. The first thing Harry felt was the soft pads of finger tips against his spine, gentle enough to make him shiver. Then he suddenly felt the light scrape of Draco’s claws against his back and it was like his mind had been switched off.

 

In the back of his head, Harry knew exactly what was happening. Draco was simulating the mating mark. When they— _if_ they actually complete the mating process, they will have to put a mating mark on each other that will leave a scar, either with their claws or with a bite. Simulating a mating mark sent Harry’s Izaki into a natural high, being that his Izaki will crave a mate over any other matter while such a compatible prospective mate is nearby.

 

Harry’s mind was blissfully blank as Draco’s claws gently scraped up his spine to the back of his neck and then all the way back down to the base of his spine where his trousers began. By the time class ended, Harry’s head was propped up on the desk by his hand and his eyes were closed. When the last student was gone and the professor had left to go to the loo, in a flash Harry was at Draco’s side with his face nuzzling into Draco’s neck like a puppy, his tongue swiping out briefly to taste Draco’s skin. To Harry’s satisfaction, his skin tasted as good as he smelt, if not better.

 

“Thank you.” Harry said as he pulled back reluctantly, his mind settling back into place without any of the anxiety it’d had before. Draco’s pupils were blown out as his gaze met Harry’s. Apparently he wasn’t the only one benefiting from the Izaki mating tease. But instead of taking things even further, Draco blinked a few times and gave Harry a gentle half-smile.

 

Harry frowned as something dawned on him. “You had no way of knowing if that would have worked. If my Izaki hadn’t accepted you as my future mate, I could have totally beast-out in the middle of class and attacked you. That was dangerous!” Harry scolded but Draco’s grin only stretched wider.

 

“But it worked! And now I know that I can move forward with _us_ without fearing for my life.” Draco said smugly and Harry just rolled his eyes.

 

“Prat.”

 

“Gorgeous.” Draco retorted as he looped his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer.

 

“Git.” The sharpness was lost on Draco when Harry smiled as he said it.

 

“ _Mine.”_ The word rumbled in Draco’s chest as he buried his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. The ringing of high-pitched giggles caused Harry to look over at the door just as several squealing third years disappeared. Harry huffed out a laugh and pulled a reluctant Draco out of their class room before even more students popped in for revisions class and they had another fan club on their hands.

 

Halfway to the Slytherin dorms, Harry and Draco went their separate ways so that Harry could finally have his dreaded meeting with Dumbledore. Draco offered to wait right outside for him, but Harry refused and sent the protective Izaki on his way. The simulated mate marking must still be affecting them because Draco was acting particularly mate-like and Harry was all too tempted to take him up on the offer of Draco going in with him.

 

Harry waited until Draco had long since disappeared and his footsteps couldn’t be heard, even with Harry’s heightened hearing. Then, he turned toward the stairs that would lead him to the ground floor and outside of the school. Harry needed to get past the anti-apparation wards. First, before his chat with Dumbledore, Harry needed to take a little field trip to the Ministry of Magic.

 

֎ 

 

An hour later finds Harry back at Hogwarts, elegantly ascending the moving spiral staircase into Dumbledore’s office. When he gets there, Dumbledore is waiting at his large wooden desk for him. His face is scrunched in something unreadable as he glares down at the opened note on his desk. Harry glances at the past headmasters’ portraits and is only mildly surprised to see them all empty.

 

Dumbledore didn’t want a repeat performance of their last meeting, which made Harry want to grin vindictively at the old man. The school was still full of rumors about his last encounter with him. Harry didn’t need an audience this time, in fact, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to reign in his temper to keep the portraits from questioning how defenseless Harry actually is.

 

The room was lit dimly by a lamp on Dumbledore’s desk and a few other lamps blazing and lighting random spots in the background of his cluttered office. Harry sat smoothly in one of the leather chairs, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. Harry flashed Dumbledore a bright and slightly vicious smile as he relaxed in his chair, a performance of power as the pensioner sat ramrod straight in his chair, looking stiff.

 

In his note, Harry had only said that he had more to discuss with Dumbledore it would be better for them both if they were able to talk in private rather than Harry having to vent this ‘overwhelming’ new information to his fellow students. Included with the indirect threat was a time for their meeting.

 

“You said we would be meeting as soon as your classes are out, I’ve been waiting for over an hour.” Dumbledore sounded annoyed and the red creeping up his cheeks revealed the fury that had been boiling up inside him every minute that Harry was late. Which only made Harry feel even better about taking his time at the Ministry of Magic.

 

“I had some things to take care of. Now, to what we came here for.” Harry leaned back in his chair and watched Albus, watched the slight fidgeting as the man became more nervous as each second passed without anything being said. Silently, though, Harry was feeling out any possible recording spells or devices. When he found none that couldn’t be quickly dismantled, Harry carried on.

 

“My late godfather, Sirius Black, was always a bit weary of you. He wasn’t one to get swept up in pretenses of ‘good’ and ‘evil’. It probably had to do the fact that you knew he was innocent, yet still allowed him to go to Azkaban without so much as a trial. You were one of the very few people who knew that Peter Pettigrew was the _actual_ Secret Keeper of the location of my family, not Sirius. But that is for another day. After Sirius left Azkaban, he began recording things that didn’t make sense about my parents’ deaths. It was during this search for the truth that Sirius came across a Prophecy.” Harry paused to let that all sink in. Dumbledore had tried to interrupt when he mentioned Peter, but Harry just carried on without stopping.

 

“Said prophecy was supposedly made by Sybill Trelawney during a job interview witnessed by yourself alone in a room above the Hogs Head Pub. It entailed some rubbish about having power Voldemort does not, a boy being born as the ‘seventh month dies’ with the power to defeat Voldemort and some other vague bollocks about dying. Severus at the time was still loyal to Voldemort and had followed you to the pub. He overheard the prophecy and immediately ran off to relay the news to his master, only belatedly realizing just _who_ fit the description of the prophecy and who might be killed in the process.

 

“Sirius only knows what the prophecy said because he took a little trip down to the Department of Mysteries and found the record of the prophecy there. Funny thing about prophecies, as I’m sure you already know, prophecies can only be picked up and witnessed by those that the prophecy is directly related to—which was listed as me and Voldemort. If anyone else tries to touch it for too long they will turn mad and will never receive the prophecy. So . . . how exactly is it possible that Sirius not only held but _witnessed_ the prophecy?” Albus suddenly blanched and his eyes grew slightly wider.

 

“Sirius wondered the same thing, so he secretly contacted Professor Trelawney and asked about the prophecy. Not only had she no memory of giving a prophecy that night, but she never went to the Department of Mysteries where she needed to have it officially recorded. Even the Unspeakable, the Department of Mysteries staff member that had supposedly created and placed the prophecy on the shelf claims she was not even there that day, she’d been in the hospital, mysteriously ill. And because the prophecy hadn’t gone through the correct legal channels it was never cataloged and no one ever discovered it was a fake.” Harry’s expression turned dark as he watched Dumbledore squirm.

  
“Sirius didn’t have the capabilities to prove who’d placed the prophecy on the shelf. He couldn’t confirm who’d essentially forged and sealed my families’ fate that night, condemning them to death. Though he had his suspicions.” Harry caught the briefest flicker of relief on Dumbledore’s face and it only fueled his building rage.

 

“Fortunately, I do. Earlier this evening I took a little field trip down to the Department of Mysteries, more specifically, the Hall of Prophecy. Thankfully all of the old placers and shelves were still there from the little commotion we’d caused last year, though there were significantly less prophecies.

 

“I know a spell, quite illegal but very useful in such situations, that allows the caster to see everything that happens around an object that directly affects it like a security feed, but only small objects, not floors or walls or buildings. It would have been nice to be able to cast the spell on the prophecy directly, but the stand it was on worked just as well. I watched all the way back to when my prophecy was placed and, _sure enough!_ _You_ were the one to place it on the shelf.” Harry’s eyes glinted with barely contained fury.

 

“I assure you Harry, you’re reading to deeply into these things! There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!” Albus argued, finally seeming to have found his voice.

 

“No, I won’t fall for your lies. _You_ created that prophecy. _You_ imperioed Trelawney to ‘envision’ it at Hogs Head. _You_ lead Voldemort to my parents’ front door, and _you_ took advantage of their deaths for your own gains!” Harry’s voice rose to a shout as he accused the stricken-faced professor.

 

“That is simply not true, Harry! What reason would I have to do _any_ of that?” Albus backpedaled. Harry had to admit, he was a good actor, the performance was quite convincing, but not enough to make Harry even hesitate.

 

“What _reason?!_ That had taken me a while to figure out. What _reason_ would a man such as yourself have for causing the death of two young parents? Then I took another look at the prophecy you’d concocted. Specific enough to sound like it was made for only one, but vague enough for you to have _two_ possible ‘chosen ones’. As it turns out, Neville Longbottom fits the prophecy just as well as I do. There was never any ‘special power’ I held to defeat Voldemort, I just happened to be unlucky enough cross your path.

 

“My guess for your reasons? Glory. You’ve always wanted to be the hero, the chosen one, haven’t you? But no one would shower an old man in fame and riches when his glory days had already long since faded away. You couldn’t be the hero again, so you chose the closest thing. The Mentor. The one who the hero looks up to, the one who made the hero who they are. You wanted your glory back, so when a new threat to the wizarding world arose, you knew that a hero wouldn’t just fall out of the sky, so you created one. You made the prophecy, knowing it would make its way to Voldemort’s ears and waited to see which child would become your ‘chosen one’. When my parents died, you made sure that Sirius never saw the light of day so that I wouldn’t be put in his undoubtedly nurturing care. Then you placed me with my magic-hating relatives, making me vulnerable and easy to manipulate. You orchestrated all of this for the attention and so far it’s worked, but no longer.” Dumbledore’s face twisted from concerned headmaster to furious lunatic.

 

Dumbledore shot up from his seat, ready to spew nasty hateful words at Harry. The words were just at the tip of his tongue, face twisted in disgust.

 

 _“SIT DOWN!”_ The force of the magic behind Harry’s words instantly dropped Dumbledore back into his seat and the floors trembled with its magnitude. Dumbledore’s eyes were wide with terror as he found that not only could he not get up, but he couldn’t even move.

 

Harry slowly stood from his seat and stepped up to Dumbledore’s desk. Fear-filled grey eyes met his as he set both hands down on the cool desk surface and leaned forward. Harry’s eyes glowed a feral green and the shadows on his face grew darker as he looked Albus in the eye and spoke.

 

“I won’t kill you here, in this moment. No, instead I will let you watch as I tear down everything you have built brick by brick, cemented in blood and death. I will peel back the flesh of your lies until the world can see your true shriveled and weak self. I will show everyone your greed and bloodlust. And when you have nothing, I will take you away from your pampered life. I will not grant you death, no I will make you feel _unimaginable_ pain. Your every breath will end in begging me to kill you, to end the agony. I will not stop until your mind breaks and there is nothing left of the man you once were. Then I will carve into your flesh the names of every person you’ve condemned to death, every person whose lives you’ve ruined, every person who has been victim to your deceit. And I will leave you to rot like that, let all of those who cannot get their own vengeance anymore be the ones to take your life.” By now, Dumbledore had begun to tremble and Harry’s eyes were alight with violent intent and it wasn’t his Izaki side calling for blood, no, that was all Harry.

 

“Now witness, _dear headmaster,_ what happens when you pull too hard on a marionette’s strings.” Harry’s voice was pure venom as his lips pulled back in a sadistic grin.

 

Harry released his hold on Dumbledore as he left his office, he heard the old man suddenly gasp in air and cough it back out. Apparently he couldn’t breathe. Good.

 

֎ 

 

Harry felt much better after meeting with Dumbledore. He had gotten worked up, yes, but threatening him with such clear intent had felt almost therapeutic. He fully intended to follow through with everything he’d said. Even though this had nothing to do with the Izaki situation, it was still something that had to be dealt with. Harry couldn’t just forgive and forget everything that has happened up until this point.

 

Harry slipped a hand into his shirt and gently touched one of the larger scars striped across his ribcage. It’s been a miracle that Draco hasn’t felt one yet in the multiple instances that his hand has strayed under Harry’s shirt. He knows that he should tell Draco, but every time he thinks about saying something, his mind clamps down on it and a voice in the back of his head convinces him it’s too early and telling him will only bring pity and he won’t want a mate whose been damaged.  And last time Harry checked, _childhood-trauma_ isn’t a very good icebreaker.

 

Draco had been waiting for him at the dorms after the meeting, once Harry had calmed down, he told Draco everything. Well, nearly everything. He told him about what was in the journal from his godfather—even let him look at certain passages or drawings—and about Dumbledore’s role in his parents deaths, and some of the lies he’d told over the years that had affected them both. Harry didn’t say anything about his relatives, though. That felt too personal, too intimate to share yet.

 

 _Perhaps with time I’ll gather enough courage. . ._ Harry thought, knowing that he was just lying to himself, but praying that it would eventually change.

 

 ֎

 

Before he knew it, a month had passed since Harry had confronted Dumbledore and Harry can’t really say that he’s unhappy with the result. From then on, Dumbledore stopped trying to manipulate Harry or use the people around him against him. He still occasionally gave Harry the stink-eye, but always ducked his head when Harry looked over.

 

It didn’t take long for the rest of the school to catch on to his and Draco’s relationship. It had been world-shaking news to everyone _but_ the Slytherins, who acted like it was an inevitable fact from the moment Harry had joined the Slytherin house, and perhaps it had been. It wasn’t long after it had taken hold of the entire school’s attention that the papers picked up the story and it held _everyone’s_ attention.

 

Those outside the school thought it was purely a strategic political move from both parties. The Malfoys would regain the respect of the public again if the savior joined the family, and Harry could use Lucius’ already prominent public stature as a platform for his political debut. But those inside the school that saw the pair together knew it was absolute rubbish. They were not shy in showing their affection for each other, but knew when it was inappropriate. Draco occasionally spent the night in Harry’s room, though they never did anything more than talk or kiss—despite what everyone thought.

 

Harry sometimes hung out with Neville or Luna, though Dean was having trouble maintaining his friendship with his best mate Seamus because Seamus had taken Ron’s side. Ron had come back with a vengeance. He did everything he could to turn people against Harry, even to go as far as to attack Harry’s sexual orientation, flinging every vile insult and degrading name he could think of at Harry when Draco wasn’t around.

 

Draco is very protective when it comes to Harry and has nearly ripped the red head apart on several occasions for being petty and tenacious. Every time Draco is close to doing it, though, Harry stops him, telling him it isn’t worth the legal complications and instead does something to mortify Ron in public as retribution.

 

Much to Harry’s ire, a fan club _had_ formed, mostly consisting of young girls with an affinity for dog-whistle-worthy squeals and a few young blokes who had slightly deeper squeals. Hilariously enough, their fan club had openly stood up against Ron and his lackeys every time he slandered Harry or Draco around them. At least, it had been funny for a while, until Ron snapped and physically attacked several second year members. He hadn’t been expelled because Dumbledore was taking advantage of anything he possibly could in public that would annoy Harry.

 

After that Harry had made the club members swear that they wouldn’t stand up for them anymore if it put them in danger and that if anyone harassed them, to tell either Harry or Draco and they would handle it. They members had sulked and pouted, but eventually gave their word.

 

After the attack on a couple of helpless second years, Harry noticed that Hermione finally seemed to be waking up and realizing the person Ron has become is not the same person Harry had once called his best mate and Hermione had fallen for. She hadn’t confronted him yet, but every time Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table during a meal, she gave him a painfully guilty look and ducked her head. Harry doesn’t know if he’d ever forgive her enough to be as close as they used to be, but he knows how swept up she’d been in Ron and how hard it had been for her to have no friends besides Harry and Ron for so long.

 

Over the last month, Harry had also been searching for a way get in contact with Gail again. He has almost no information on the current living conditions of his people and all Draco knew about the whole thing was that many unregistered Izaki referred to the ‘habitat’ as _Terra di Morte_ , or _Land of Death._ Every time he began to think about his kind rotting away in some sort of containment facility, Harry’s Izaki gets restless and starts scratching at the walls of his human body, wanting out so that he can put all of his effort and focus into finding them.

 

He was close too, that’s what’s so frustrating about the whole thing; he can feel the legilimency brushing something on the other side, just barely out of reach. Every time he gets close, it slips through his fingers and leaves him sweating and exhausted. Draco tried, but since he never had an Izaki enter his mind for his inheritance because his parents were able to provide proficient knowledge, he can’t even feel anything on the other side.

 

As autumn settled heavily on Hogwarts, Harry felt a frustrating stagnation when it came to contacting his people. He knew that before really moving forward, he needed to know the conditions of Terra di Morte. Now, his first priority is reaching Gail. That is, if he can survive the hordes of giggling schoolgirls, hormone driven impulses, insane headmasters, and potion master cheek.

 


	4. Chapter Four: Truths

 

Under the crisp cloak of darkness, the moon gave dim silver sanctuary to the tree tops of the Forbidden Forest. Beams of silken light came through in patches between branches like the distilled rays that shot through to sandy sea floors, giving the illusion of a grim underwater world. Voices carried on the bitter autumn wind, hushed and severe.

 

“What more do you know?” Rasped the first beast to his companion. The centaurs stood close to keep what is private, private.

 

“He is certainly _one of them_. I felt it the first time I encountered the young creature, his power was overwhelming, yet I could tell he still knows not of its extent. When he appeared, the forest sang for him. Word among the other species is starting to spread, that power . . . others will draw near him. A change is coming, the Guardians will rise again. . .” The words of the centaur seemed to silence the entire forest, only the sound of their breathing could be heard in the night. Then, a low thrumming pulsed through the very earth like a heartbeat, voicing its agreement with the beast. The land was anticipating their return.

 

 ֎

 

Harry’s eyes captured Draco’s and a slow, vindictive grin stretched across his face. The sadistic gleam in his vibrant green eyes cause the skin on the back of Draco’s neck begin to sweat and he swallowed loudly in the tense silence. Harry’s lips curled slightly and fear seized Draco’s gut as he watched the subject of his affections strike with intent to kill. Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he felt the blood draining and his head swam.

_"Check mate!”_ Harry’s deadly calm voice sent shivers down Draco’s spine. He covered it up with a heavy defeated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in faux aggravation at having been beat _again_ by his beloved. Draco’s stoic white queen was smashed to bits and he covered his eyes in mock horror.

 

“No! I simply can’t _bear_ to watch!” He cried dramatically. He heard Harry huff across from him and practically _felt_ him roll his eyes at Draco’s antics. Draco moved his hands when he felt a warm, solid but lithe body slide onto his lap.

 

Harry was smirking at Draco as he grabbed the blonde’s face and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Draco didn’t even try to contain the wide grin that overtook his face as he looped his arms around Harry’s waist.

 

This is how it usually has been between them—some light-hearted teasing, followed by copious amounts of affection, and occasionally (actually, all the time) the situation escalated to long periods of snogging. They hadn’t taken it all the way ( _yet_ ) but it was always a close call every time they were alone together and knew they’d be alone for quite some time. Every time they got close, though, Draco would stop them and tell Harry that he doesn’t want to rush him. That he wanted to do this right and court Harry properly.

 

Which Harry is infinitely frustrated by because Draco _has_ been courting him perfectly since they’d started this whole thing! Every other day it’s been flowers or small and meaningful gifts or simple but sweet dates that turns Harry’s insides to melted butter and makes his chest swell with the feelings he wouldn’t dare deny. Harry is beyond ready to further their relationship and even ready for the mating bond—though it makes his heart beat thunderously and his cheeks redden with heat every time he thinks about it—and he _knows_ that Draco is too. Draco insists on courting Harry like a pureblood and a human, but _that’s not what they are anymore!_

 

Draco doesn’t understand that Izakis don’t _court_. Once both forms of the Izaki, the id _and_ the ego, decide on a mate the mating takes place almost immediately. Some decide to hold off on mating, but if they aren’t rejecting the other as a mate, it can be detrimental to both Izaki’s health. Apparently Draco plans on holding out for as long as possible, but as they passed the ‘One Month’ mark in their ‘courtship’ Harry had begun to physically _ache_ when he wasn’t touching Draco, or at least within a few feet from him.

 

Harry understood why he does it. He knows that there are customs that have been instilled in Draco since birth and his make him feel closer to his human heritage. In fact, Harry found it absolutely heart-warming, and that’s why he tried to not mention it, but every time his control would slip a little, his aggravated Izaki side made an appearance and growled at Draco for not mating him already.

 

Harry appreciated Draco’s efforts to not take their physical relationship further, because they both knew that once they do that, it’d become _much_ harder for them if they’re not officially mated. Yet, Harry would rather they do both and enjoy their full mating bond. He’s aware that Izaki only mate once in their life, and though that kind of eternal commitment would have terrified Harry a few months ago, it only made him more eager now. He _knew_ that Draco was his mate as clearly and absolutely as he knew that the sun would rise each morning and set each evening.

 

Draco pulled Harry closer until his side was pressed against Draco’s chest. He automatically wrapped his arm around Draco’s shoulders without so much as a thought. They had eaten lunch together privately at a small round table in the kitchens that afternoon and since they’d gone back to the Slytherin common room early, they had decided to play a few games of wizards chess before class. Which Harry just so happened to be amazing at.

 

Draco was no longer the terrified young pureblood just trying to protect his family from a madman, Harry could see that. His inheritance had given him power, gave him a sort of control that he hadn’t had before, and he used that power to protect what he cared about. In their earlier school years, many thought Draco was a coward—hell even Harry had thought that for a while—but he saw now that Draco was loyal to a fault when it came to what _really_ matters to him and would do anything to protect it, pride aside.

 

Harry’s fingers brushed absent-mindedly through the soft short hair at the back of Draco’s head and he couldn’t stop the easy smile that bloomed on his face. This feeling. This tightening in his chest. It had nothing to do with bonds or creature inheritances or politics. It was so unquestionably simple and untouched by anything else in their world. There were no asides, no required context, no _Malfoy_ and _Potter_. It was just Harry and Draco.

 

Draco brushed his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. The corners of his mouth tugged up without his knowledge as he studied the bright face before him.

 

“What are you thinking, love?” Draco asked softly, his fingertips skimmed up Harry’s jawline, breezed a phantom trail up to his temple and slipped into his hair. Harry turned his face slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of Draco’s wrist, feeling the pulse jump under his lips.

 

“I’m thinking . . . I want to be mated to you already.” Harry gave Draco a pointed look that was ruined by the smirk on his lips. Harry paused and his smile slipped. “Unless . . . you’re unsure about us. It’s alright if you are! I can wait longer, I don’t want you to feel—”

 

“Of course I’m sure about us! You are the only one I want to be with for the rest of our lives. I knew that from the moment you swiped those adorable little claws at my throat!” Draco grinned and lighted Harry’s hand to his mouth, he kissed each fingertip lovingly, his eyes never left Harry’s as he did so. Draco exploded with authentic laughter when Harry growled at him, baring his fangs. As Draco’s laughter finally settled down, his face became happy but serious again. “Please, don’t ever doubt that I love you with more than I ever thought I was capable of.”

 

Harry froze, his eyes widened and his breath remained caught somewhere in his throat. Neither of them had ever said specifically . . . _that_ before. Sure, Harry _knew_ that he loved Draco, and most of the time he was positive that Draco felt the same way, but it hadn’t been spoken aloud by either of them and Draco _had just bloody said it like it was a plain fact and not a big deal at all!_ ‘I love you’ echoed in Harry’s head.

 

It was not something he had much experience with. Yeah, he’d heard it before, but always directed at others! Petunia used it almost every time she’d spoken to Dudley, but never towards Harry. Ron and Hermione had only ever shone their love in their actions. Ginny and Harry’s brief and unsuccessful fling during his sixth year had never amounted to anything _close_ to love. Harry liked Ginny, but Harry quickly realized he’d only felt such affections towards her because she was familiar and _safe_ and actually wanted him. Ginny was a sweet girl, but Harry had only ever seen her as a star-crossed girl who saw Harry as her hero.

 

Harry suddenly snapped out of his daze, having realized he’d just sort of stared at Draco the entire time his mind had had a small meltdown over what Draco had said. Harry leaned in and when they kissed, it felt like warm alcoholic honey had been poured down his throat. Made his insides feel warm and tingly and his head dizzy as their mouths moved slowly. Their mouths opened and Draco’s tongue swept through Harry’s mouth in a savoring, intimate way that made Harry whimper.

 

Before Harry completely lost himself and forgot what he wanted to say, he pulled back enough to look Draco in the eye. Harry pressed a hand to Draco’s chest when he tried to follow Harry’s movements and continue the toe-curling kiss, which Harry felt deeply satisfied with himself, knowing he had put Draco in such a state.

 

“I love you too.” The words came out confidently, and Harry was glad he’d said them right then because the arousal that clouded Draco’s eyes cleared as fast as if someone had just splashed ice water in his face. He grinned wider than Harry had ever seen and he suddenly attacked Harry’s neck, Harry produced an undignified squeak as his neck was licked, kissed, sucked, and lightly bitten with fangless white teeth. Draco’s arms locked around Harry’s waist and kept him from getting away when he tried to get up.

 

After a few more teasing nips, Harry gently pressed on Draco’s chest and he immediately backed off. Harry then stood, a smile on his face as he pulled the blonde to his feet and left the common room. After a few comfortably silent moments of walking, Harry turned his head toward Draco and grinned.

 

“I just remembered I never asked, how _did_ your father react to the news of our . . . _courtship?”_ Harry’s tone was full of amusement as he pictured the elder Malfoy’s face when saw the _Daily Prophet_ during his breakfast one morning, headlining with ‘ _Romance Sparked between Savior and Slytherin?’_ With a picture of Draco and Harry that had been taken without either of their knowledge.

 

In the photo, the two stood in an empty corridor, positioned very close together with private smiles on their faces as their mouths moved without sound. Harry doesn’t remember the moment that the picture had been taken exactly, but the Harry in the photo had looked absolutely besotted, as had Draco.

 

The article written about their relationship had vague details, but most of it was accurate and rather surprisingly positive about his relationship with the formerly suspected Deatheater. Harry would never admit it to anyone, but he’d taken a copy of the newspaper and it was stowed away in his trunk under several folded jumpers.

  
“As you can imagine, he was very shocked at first. He thought I had gone mental! But I suppose his reaction was far less extreme because of everything that has changed for you recently: accepting your title, switching to Slytherin, publicly associating with suspected Deatheaters, being a dark creature.

 

“I think he still sees you as the light side’s Golden boy since he hasn’t seen the change for his own eyes. Though, that’ll change once he meets you—which _will_ be happening soon! A few weeks from now I will be returning home for my father's birthday and I want you to come with me.” Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, but didn’t say anything because he _did_ want to meet Draco’s parents.

 

“I think his unease is partially due to the fact that deserting Voldemort really brassed off the bloody sod and he’s been worried that he’s going to come after mother or me for revenge. Not to worry, I reinforced the wards around our home so that not even Voldemort can get in.” Draco’s tone was light and amused, but Harry knew he was still worried about his parents without him there to protect them.

 

Voldemort had been oddly quiet since Sirius’s death and their small showdown at the ministry. Though there had been small sightings of Deatheaters here and there, nothing truly sinister had taken place thus far. Harry would be lying if he said it didn’t make him uneasy.

 

Harry may have stepped away from the appointed position of ‘savior’, but that didn’t mean Voldemort would be oh-so-considerate and back off of Harry completely. Also, Harry wouldn’t exactly be happy if innocent people died just because he wanted to make some of those on the light side suffer for their sins against him and others around him.

 

“I’m guessing that you’ve done the same for your Godfather? Released him from Voldemort’s hold, that is.” Harry asked, realizing he had never actually asked, he just assumed Severus was no longer a part of Voldemort’s inner circle.

 

“Yes, I did it soon after I had done the same for my parents. If he had stayed, Voldemort would have surely used him against my parents and even me. I also made sure his home was adequately warded.” Right then, they’d reached their classroom and sat in their usual spots. Nothing but a little small talk between them until Minerva strode in. As always, she was all stiff posture and sour condescending looks for her room full of students.

 

She introduced the partner project they were to do for the rest of the hour and Harry sort of zoned her out. Since news of their relationship had broken out, Harry had almost _always_ been partnered with Draco.

 

Yet, when McGonagall reached Harry, the name that followed his had indeed _not_ been Draco’s. In fact, the name that followed his was the worst possible partner he could have out of the entire class. Heads perked up in surprise and Harry immediately stood and approached McGonagall. Harry completely ignored the bitter-faced redhead when he passed.

 

“Professor McGonagall, might I ask _why_ you chose Ron to be my partner?” Harry ground out in a quiet tone that not even those sat in the first row could have heard. McGonagall measured Harry with a harrowing look before answering.

 

“It has come to my attention that the relationship between you and Mr. Weasley has become rather . . . strained. I will not stand for such a close friendship be tarnished by, to put it frankly, _stupidity!”_ McGonagall trilled in her proper Scottish accent. “Now, off you go, back to your seat next to Mr. Weasley. There will be no fighting in this class room, so will you and Ronald _please_ sort yourselves out without fists and insults!?” McGonagall practically shooed Harry off once she was done speaking.

 

Harry retrieved his belongings from their place next to Draco, giving him a brief look to tell him it was fine and Harry might even find amusement in infuriating the prick. Ron didn’t look at him when Harry tossed his things loudly onto the shared tabletop and sat down next to him. Ron simply leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes carving out holes in the black board in front of them.

 

Hermione sat directly in front of Harry, due to her own mismatched partner and rotten luck. Harry couldn’t help the bark of laughter that erupted from him. Ron flashed a glare in Harry’s direction and Hermione pretended she didn’t even know who was behind her.

 

“The ‘Golden Trio’ back together again! How . . . _nostalgic.”_ Harry drawled on in a sardonic tone. He smiled at the obvious discomfort of the other two who had listened to his every word, even if they pretended not to. Harry caught the poisonous sneer that formed on Ron’s face as he kept his eyes ahead. The room filled with a buzz of conversations as the other students got to work, drawing the attention away from the three.

 

“I have to say, I never expected the broken little boy to get on so well without his precious _friends.”_ Harry’s smile vanished instantly and he slowly turned to look at Ron. Ron looked back and smirked smugly when he saw that he’d gotten Harry’s undivided attention with that remark. “Say, do those snakes tolerate your pity-parties, or have you just finally smarted up and stopped advertising your pathetic past to everyone?” Harry tensed up. The words, even from an arsehole, were painful to hear. “People have to deal with their own crap without having to hear about yours. I mean honestly, if it was really _that bad_ you could have just tried a little harder at not fucking things up. You really only have yourself to blame for—”

 

A jarringly loud smacking noise instantly doused the room in silence. Harry blinked wide eyes several times as his mind tried to process how Hermione had moved so fast and why she was breathing heavily. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes alight with fury. Tried to decipher why Ron’s cheek looked so painfully red, appearing absolutely shell-shocked next to Harry. Harry blinked several more times as his brain finally caught up with what he’d seen.

 

“Ms. Hermione Granger!” Professor McGonagall sliced through the silence with an incredulous shout. “We _do not_ physically attack other students! You are dismissed from the rest of class, I expect to see you as soon as the hour is through.”

 

Muffled whispers broke out all over the class with wide eyes that flickered back to Hermione every other moment. Hermione didn’t seem to even notice, though. Instead, her gaze moved from Ron over to Harry.

 

Harry gave a singular nod in silent thanks, but Hermione looked down and away, like she thought she didn’t deserve the appreciation from Harry. And perhaps she didn’t. Harry hadn’t totally forgiven her, but as she stoically packed her things and left the classroom, he realized that he didn’t exactly hate her either. He found, perhaps, that it might be possible for him to forgive her in the near future.

 

For the rest of class Harry sat back and silently admired the bright red handprint on Ron’s cheek that he couldn’t help but touch and prod every few seconds. It just about made Harry’s day at the end of class when he noticed that a few parts of where the palm had made contact had started to bruise.

 

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t allowed to bask in the afterglow of watching his twat of an ex-mate get bitch-slapped by someone who, until recently, took Ron’s side on everything. This was because of the stern inquiries Draco laid on him the moment they were a fair distance away from everyone else in the hallways. Apparently Harry’s smooth evasion tactics lately haven’t been evasive enough. Harry wanted to tell him, he really did, but every time he got close he’d lose his nerve and convince himself that it’s in the past and to just let dead things stay dead.

 

Now, faced with Draco actually _asking_ for the answer, Harry felt this overwhelming feeling of _‘I’m not bloody ready for this! It’s too soon!’_ Harry’s heart pumped double-time and his mind completely left him as his panic mounted. Just as Harry opened his mouth to spew another poorly constructed evasion, he was saved by the high, airy greeting from behind him. Harry turned and grinned at Luna as she approached the pair.

 

“Luna, what an unexpected surprise! I thought you were staying with your father in Iceland for another three days to catch the migration of, what was it? Galnic Snails? Before they reached the ocean.” Harry was actually very pleased to have his friend back early. He and Luna had grown ever closer over the recent months.

 

“Ah, unfortunate local culling made the trip a rather short one.” Luna stated as if the fact didn’t faze her in the slightest as she twisted a dark blue bead locked around a long wavy lock of light blonde hair between her fingers.

 

“Actually Luna, I have some things I wanted to discuss with you briefly, would you mind taking a short walk with me?” When Luna smiled, Harry hooked his arm with hers and turned to Draco who looked far from fooled and gave Harry a look that suggested that they would be talking again later.

 

The pair walked off together as Draco went the opposite way for his next class, which was the same class as Harry, but he was unconcerned. After a few pleasant minutes of walking in silence, Luna’s voice rang like soft bells in the corridor they passed through as she spoke.

 

“I’ve been hearing quite splendid things from the forest lately. It hums the sweetest melodies.” Luna followed her confusing words with a haunting melody that covered Harry’s arms with goose bumps. Not quite what he would have categorized as ‘ _sweet’_.

 

“’Hums’?” Harry asked, not in a patronizing tone, but a curious one. Luna made an affirmative noise but didn’t elaborate.

 

“It’s strange, Harry. I wonder why the school gave you your own room when you switched.” Luna’s blonde head dipped to the side a little as she pondered. Harry frowned slightly, she made it sound like the school was a conscious, sentient being rather than just a magical building.

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Hogwarts wants all of its children to feel a sense of community. So, why give you your own room?” Luna had the same half-there tone that she usually had, but Harry had a feeling that Luna was being very serious right then and he should pay attention.

 

“The dorms of my year were full so I got lucky and got my own room.” Harry shrugged, but Luna just shook her head.

 

“Those rooms don’t fill. They can get crowded and then divided equally between more rooms, but the rooms are ever expanding and don’t leave one child on their own. So you must wonder, what might the school be telling you?” Luna turned when Harry gave her a confused look and just smiled happily at him.

 

“It’s silly how stars are brightest on the darkest nights.” Luna sighed, having slipped back into her usual nonsensical dialog, which Harry rather enjoyed at times when he didn’t want to talk or think about anything with weight in their lives.

 

 ֎

 

That night Harry avoided Draco to sleep alone in his magically-expanded bed for the first time that entire week. Harry felt guilty after he’d turned down Draco’s offer to spend the night with him, especially after the _amazing_ way the first half of the day had gone. Yet, every time Harry thought about facing Draco and his questions, his gut twisted and he couldn’t go through with it.

 

Despite Harry’s restless mind and the queasy feeling of anxiety that rolled in his gut, he dropped off into a deep sleep quickly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t dreamless. . .

 

_As the black fog cleared, the world became visible around Harry and he noticed that he was in a kitchen. A kitchen Harry knew sickeningly well. Harry’s eyes were level with the objects on the counter tops, meaning he was back in the body of his 5-7 year old self. Harry was alone in the kitchen, he noticed, as he quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching._

 

_Harry opened one of the overhanging cabinets and reached for a glass. Harry was too short to reach the crystal glasses just inches from his fingers, but Harry felt a terrible thirst and just wanted a little bit of apple juice from the fridge. Determined, Harry pushed up onto the balls of his feet, his fingers plucking at the very rim of the glass. As Harry tried to tilt it towards him so he could grab it, the glass tilted too far and fell onto the counter with a heart-stopping cracking sound._

 

_Harry heard the pounding footsteps stampeding toward the kitchen and he jumped back, away from the counter like the broken glass had tried to bite him. A towering Vernon Dursley entered the kitchen, first looking at Harry with suspicion, then seeing the precious crystal lying on its side on the counter._

 

_Vernon’s face took on a deceptively calm expression as he picked up the glass and set it up right. The majority of the cup was intact, but most of the rim had been broken off and laid on the counter in two thin chunks. Vernon looked back at Harry and Harry was seized by fear._

 

_“Were you trying to get a drink?” Vernon’s friendly tone and no visible anger coaxed Harry to answer, even as something screamed in the back of his head not to. Harry nodded shallowly. Vernon didn’t say anything as he turned to the fridge next to him and pulled out a pitcher of apple juice, pouring a generous amount of the golden liquid into the glass. Then he picked it up and extended it towards Harry. Harry didn’t move until Vernon firmly told him to take the cup._

 

 _“You wanted a drink, so drink.” Vernon said in that same pseudo-calm voice. Harry turned the cup to the unbroken rim with his small hands and began lifting it towards his lips. “No. That is not how I gave it to you. Turn it back and_ drink! _” Vernon’s voice was low and full of barely contained venom._

 

_Harry turned it back, the sharp edges now facing him, but he didn’t bring it back to his face. Instead he looked back up at Vernon with wide, terrified eyes._

 

_“Drink!” Vernon shouted._

 

_Harry shook his head pleaded with his uncle._

 

_“I-I can’t.” His small voice stuttered and his entire body shook with fear._

 

_“DRINK, BOY!” Vernon bellowed, causing little Harry to flinch. Harry’s lips trembled as he slowly brought the cup to his mouth. Harry felt the rim tug at his lip in a way that itched and stung, the juice filling his mouth was bitter and tasted like old pennies. Harry immediately pulled away and choked down what was in his mouth._

 

_“Finish your drink! We do not waste such things on filth like you in this house! You will drink until every last drop is gone or else you can find someone else to burden!” Vernon threatened._

 

_Harry sobbed as he brought the wretched cup back to his mouth and as he drank, something warm dripped down his chin._

 

_After that, the scene changed to another memory and played out to much of the same effect. Harry saw the time he didn’t wear shoes outside when he was 9 and came back in with dirty feet, tracking dirt all over aunt Petunia’s white carpets. Petunia had told him to go pick up milk from the supermarket and to run because it was almost time for dinner and if he was late, he wouldn’t get any. When he went to slip on his old trainers, Petunia ripped them back off and told him to go without. Because Harry had ran the whole way there and back, desperate to make it on time so he could eat, he had cut up the bottoms of his feet and Petunia had made him stay outside so that he wouldn’t get blood and dirt on the carpet. He never did get dinner despite being on time._

 

 _He saw long, lonely days in the cupboard. He saw restless, exhausting nights where the hunger pains kept him awake the whole night. He saw Dudley and his friends pushing him down and kicking his ribs in. He saw pain. He saw fear. . . He_ felt _fear. . ._

 

When Harry woke up he could hardly breathe, he was shaking uncontrollably, and the residual fear felt too real in the still-dark room. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs so he could drop his head into his hands. Harry’s head pounded with his fitful and restless sleep that came from the few hours he’d actually caught.

 

 _Merlin!_ It’s like every time he starts to forget what happened and move on from his past, he has one of those _blasted_ dreams and he’s forced to relive some of lowest points of his life. They didn’t always star the Dursleys, sometimes it was Sirius’s death all over again, or one of the monsters he’s face before but in his dreams he always died a meaningless death, or Voldemort catches him unguarded and takes him out when he least expects it.

 

More recently he’s had nightmares of that closet on his 17th birthday, but there’s no inheritance and he doesn’t get saved. Sometimes he doesn’t recognize the things or people he sees in a dream, but when they die in front of him, he’s overcome with grief like he’d known them all his life.

 

 _I will tell Draco_. Harry resolved. It’s just something that had to be cleared up before they were permanently bonded.

 

And two days later, Harry had pushed it out of his head so much that he’d almost completely forgotten about telling Draco. Harry was back to smiles, and sweet kisses, and ‘I love you’s in no time at all. Draco smiled and everything else in the world faded away.

 

On Friday morning, three days after making that forgotten secret resolution, Harry was walking and laughing with Draco in the halls during their free period. Nightmares and invasive questions forgotten. When Severus suddenly appeared in front of them and Harry startled, having not noticed his approach. Snape greeted them briefly before pulling a folded and wax stamped piece of parchment from his billow-y immaculate black robes and handed it over to Harry.

 

Already having a slight clue as to what it was, Harry cracked the wax and read the parchment right then and there. Harry rolled his eyes, having guessed correctly that it was a summons from Albus. _Probably looking for another verbal smack-down!_ Harry thought smugly.

 

“Do the both of you want to join me this time? It should be fun!” Harry waved the summons around to entice the two men before him into joining him in the show Dumbledore was undoubtedly about to put on for him. Draco grinned and eagerly agreed, ready for more than just the stories Harry had told him. Severus, on the other hand, had to be dragged along, though Harry caught the faint excited gleam in his eye as the three made their way towards Dumbledore’s office.

 

But the old man was not alone in his office that time around, with more than just the portraits as audience. Harry took in the additional people in the room and his blood ran cold. Draco had stopped beside him several feet into the office, but Harry couldn’t focus on Draco at that moment. Not when three Dursleys stood before him, grimacing and scowling at every wizard-y thing around them. The nightmares from a few days prior rushed back to Harry and he felt a slight quake in his hands. Harry’s eyes had frozen in wide terror as he watched the Dursleys, and the Dursleys watched him back.

 

Despite never having seen the people, Severus only needed to take one look at Harry’s reaction to understand who these people were. Snape stepped in front of Harry like a shield and turned an enraged expression on Dumbledore. Snape absently noted that Professor McGonagall stood beside his desk and was watching the Dursleys with barely disguised disdain.

 

“What the hell is the meaning of this!? Why have you brought them here?” Severus’s voice thundered through the room, drawing the attention of everyone but Dumbledore and Harry.

 

Draco had never heard his godfather so angry before, it took him by complete surprise as he stood there and tried to comprehend what was happening while knowing that he didn’t have all of the pieces. Draco could smell the fear that rolled off of Harry and all he wanted to do was grab his beloved, growl at everyone in the room for upsetting Harry, and hide his precious little Izaki away so that nobody could ever make him so unhappy again. But Draco wasn’t completely irrational, he knew that such things wouldn’t help them right then. So instead, he settled for taking Harry’s hand and intertwined their fingers together to give his silent support.

 

Being reminded of Draco’s presence had been both comforting and troubling. Comforting, because Harry always took solace in the blonde’s presence and couldn’t help but feel a natural calm wash over him around Draco. Troubling, because his hand was being forced. He’d promised himself that he would tell Draco about his relatives, but because he put it off and conveniently ‘forgot’ about the resolution to himself, it felt as though the universe was getting it’s cruel revenge by revealing his past in the most difficult way possible.

 

Dumbledore ignored Severus’s shouts, instead he kept his twinkling grey eyes on Harry. Harry elected to glare at the headmaster rather than resign himself to the torture of having to look at the Dursleys.

 

“It is with great regret that I tell you this, Harry. As of this moment, your admittance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been revoked. It is the will of the legal guardians of Harry James Potter that he be taken out of the school to finish out his education at another institution.” Albus’s tone was sympathetic and gentle, as if he _weren’t_ silently rubbing this in Harry’s face victoriously. The entire room seemed to have been knocked back by Dumbledore’s words, including Minerva, who apparently hadn’t known what the meeting would have been about.

 

“You can’t do that!” Harry shouted. He stepped around Severus to face Dumbledore fully. “I’m an adult, they no longer have a say in such a thing. Also, their disapproval has never stopped me from coming here before. If you think that this pathetic attempt will get rid of me, you’re a lot dumber than I’d thought!” Harry’s words dripped with venom and he was having trouble reigning in his Izaki side to keep him from murdering four specific people in the room.

 

Distantly, Harry wondered how in Merlin’s name Dumbledore had managed to convince the Dursleys to come to what, for them, no doubt amounted to actual _hell._

 

“Now Harry, we may have laws of our own, but our alliance with the muggles requires certain compromises and in some cases, their laws will take priority over our own. In the muggle world, you are still a minor and the Dursleys are still your legal guardians. It is true, in the past I have gone against their wishes and kept you at this school because I was convinced that it would be in your best interest. Now, though, it seems quite clear to me that there are too many bad influences for you here and it would be better if you continued your education elsewhere.” Dumbledore was the epitome of a chastising parental figure on the outside, but secretly Harry could practically hear his thoughts shouting _‘check mate!’_

 

“You can’t be serious!” Harry shrieked as his eyes flitted wildly from Dumbledore, to his smug relatives, and back again.

 

“I, as Harry’s professor and head of house, formally object to Harry being put back into the care of his relatives.” Professor Snape’s voice was barely controlled, a biting tone just underneath the surface as he fought with himself to come off as civilized.

 

Dumbledore looked infinitely surprised by Severus’s objection, like he really _hadn’t_ heard the professor before when he violently rejected allowing the Dursleys to even be in the _room!_ Harry’s body went rigid as he prepared himself for what he knew was coming, for what he knew he had to let Severus do.

 

“It has come to my attention that these people are not only unfit to care for a magical child, but cannot care for another child period. Evidence of physical and emotional abuse have been presented and if the dismissal from Hogwarts isn’t withdrawn, I will have no choice but to bring such evidence to the public and have this sorted out in court.” Severus didn’t look at Harry as he spoke. He knew that looking at the boy might keep him from doing what needed to be done if he was going to protect Harry.

 

Harry heard a deep rumbling from behind him and could feel Draco’s anger and despair and confusion building inside him like a storm. Not waiting for the sky to break open, Harry rushed from the room, not stopping when Draco called out for him. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, no he wanted to bury his face in Draco’s shoulder and hide from the world. That wasn’t an option though, because with that comfort came questions and he needed a moment alone before he even thought about trying to explain such a thing to Draco.

 

Harry felt so much building up inside of himself, tangling itself into knots that he didn’t know how to even begin to sort out. Harry’s mind was just too full and it frustrated him to no end. Harry was about to round a corner when he heard two sets of footsteps and immediately turned around to go the other way. He couldn’t deal with people right now, but he paused when one of them spoke and he recognized the voice.

 

“I told you already, I’m done! _We’re_ done! _Merlin,_ I was so stupid for falling for you in the first place.” Hermione spat out, like she was disgusted with herself. Harry walked up to the corner and pressed his back against the wall. He needed to listen, to focus on someone else’s problems instead of his own.

 

“At least I didn’t abandon you for _those snakes!_ One minute we’re all best friends, and the next he’s suddenly one them! Traitorous bastard!” Ron hissed with a voice dripping with hatred.

 

“Gods Ron, would you _listen_ to yourself! This didn’t just come out of nowhere. _He was_ _our friend_ _and he needed us!_ We were all he had in the beginning, we were all he had when Sirius died and you couldn’t get over your own idiotic jealousy to see that! I used to think I loved you, but now I’m not even sure if I know who you are anymore.” The pain in Hermione’s voice clenched something in Harry’s chest and didn’t quite understand it.

 

 _“Me!?_ _You’re_ the one who _slapped_ me in the middle of class! I can’t believe you’re taking his side. Well, if you want to be a traitor then I’ll treat you that way. If you’d rather live as a traitor than be with me, then you can die as a traitor as well.” Harry was behind Ron in less than a second, hand wrapped painfully tight around the wrist that held the wand that’s tip was still faintly glowing an unsettling green.

 

Hermione’s eyes were the size of saucers, glued to the green spark at the end of Ron’s wand, realizing just how insane Ron had become. Harry caught Hermione’s horrified gaze and calmly spoke.

 

“Leave us, Hermione, I think Ron and I need to have a little chat.” The intent in his voice was unmistakable, but Harry was pleased to see that it didn’t seem to bother her much what happened to Ron because after only a glance at Ron’s surprised and slightly scared face, she promptly walked away without even a shred of guilt.

 

Once Hermione was gone, Harry ripped the wand out of Ron’s hand and placed a hand firmly on the back of Ron’s neck, his own wand tip digging into Ron’s back. Without a single word, Harry walked Ron over to the closest door to them and was pleased to find that it was an empty classroom. Harry closed the door and shoved Ron away. The red head stumbled and fell onto the floor. Harry threw up a quick privacy charm around the room and warded the door to keep anyone from getting in or out.

 

Ron stayed on the floor as he glared defiantly up at Harry, like he somehow thought he still had the upper hand in the situation despite being wandless.

 

“What? You going to bring your big bad boyfriend up here to beat me up?” Ron scoffed and shook his head. Though, the grin on Harry’s face made Ron shift nervously. Ron may not be aware of Harry’s inheritance, but even before that Harry was quite magically adept.

 

“No, it’s just you and me in here. Unfortunately, I’m very fond of the twins, so I won’t kill you.” Harry conceded, but that didn’t seem to set Ron at ease at all. Harry shed his outer school robes, tossing them onto a shabby table near the door and began to roll up the crisp white sleeves of his shirt. “Fortunately, though, I have a lot of pent up anger right now, so this’ll be fun.” Harry’s grin split his face in such a delightfully frightening way and the panic of the situation finally seemed to settle in for Ron.

 

“And remember, deep breaths. Don’t want you passing out on me halfway through. . .”

 

 ֎

 

By the time Harry stepped back from the slumped figure on the ground before him, the sun had slipped just beyond the horizon outside the window to Harry’s right. Casting the room in a dim, slowly fading light, since none of the sconces had been lit in the classroom.

 

His knuckles were healing already, skin stitching itself back together like they’d never split open to begin with. Harry wasn’t even breathing hard at this point, _but that was quite a feat!_ Harry thought to himself as he tilted his head and admired his work.

 

Ron’s face was a mangled bloody mess from the hits, already swelling one eye closed and bruising darkly all over. Ron sat on the floor, one arm resting on a propped up knee while his other hand touched his lip and pulled back to look at the blood that smeared his fingers. Ron lowered a hand to his ribs and groaned as they painfully moved back into position and began to heal. Harry had beaten Ron to the point of unconsciousness several time now, having wondlessly healed him so that he could do it all over again. Okay, perhaps Harry was sweating _a little_ by that point.

 

Once Ron no longer had one foot in the casket, but still battered enough to feel it for the next few weeks, Harry stopped healing him and tossed the wand shoved into his back pocket over to Ron. Ron immediately snatched it up and raised it towards Harry’s face.

 

“Before you try to kill me, you should know that it won’t work. The spell will be sent your way instead and you will end your own life.” Harry said coolly while he slipped his hands carelessly into the pockets of his slacks, as if inviting Ron to try anyways. But Ron didn’t, he didn’t look convinced, but he did pause.

 

“How do you mean?” He asked skeptically.

 

“Well, beating the living shite out of you was admittedly, _fun,_ but I didn’t do it just because you’re a homicidal arse-hat! Actually, I was slowly getting your magic to submit to mine, that’s why I healed you. You now only have secondary control over your magic, while I have primary control. As it just so happens, my first order for your magic was to attack you if you ever tried to cause harm to another being if it isn’t defensive and even then only to save your life. Every ill-intended spell will hit you rather than someone else and if you try to physically harm someone your magic will hurt you instead.” Harry explained as Ron slowly got up from the floor, wand still in hand but no longer pointed at Harry’s face.

 

“I don’t believe you.” Ron spat weakly, wiping some of the blood on his face off onto his shirt sleeve. Harry shrugged in response and held his hands out to the sides, inviting Ron to hit him. Not hesitating to take the rare opportunity, Ron pulled back his fist but only got that far before he suddenly buckled over and groaned in obvious pain that had nothing to do with his physical injuries.

 

“To put it bluntly, I magically neutered you!” Harry snickered at the horrified look on Ron’s face and began rolling down his sleeves.

 

Ron had scurried away before Harry had finished making himself presentable again, which Harry was fine with. Ron had gotten what Harry had been trying to convey—Harry was now in control of Ron. Harry wasn’t sadistic, he wouldn’t abuse that power; but much like a shock collar on a dog, if Ron wreaked any more havoc around here, Harry would put him down before anything went truly wrong.

 

After Ron had attacked the underclassmen, Harry had sought out ways to reign Ron back in and this had seemed like the most effective. It was very difficult to do and extremely degrading, but Ron’s magical abilities were weak enough to make it possible and attempting to kill Hermione made it necessary.

 

Harry returned to his room, knowing that Draco would be waiting there for him. Harry knew that if he tried to think through what he would say to Draco beforehand, he would undoubtedly run away again. So instead, he elected to not think about it at all until his bedroom door closed behind him and he had trapped himself inside.

 

Draco was immediately all over him, checking to make sure he was okay and unharmed. When Draco sniffed out the blood on his hands, his nostrils flared and he looked like he was about to explode with rage, but not towards Harry, thankfully.

 

“It’s not mine. I needed to work out some frustration and happened to run into Ron.” Harry’s voice was soft as he studied Draco’s face. His eyes traced the smooth, beautiful features with a hard edge to then that always entrapped Harry if he looked for too long. Relief washed over Draco’s face and Harry got the distinct feeling that Draco was slightly approving of who Harry had taken it out on.

 

“I suppose it’s time we talked about what happened earlier.” Harry sounded calm, but a little distant. He’d detached himself a little from the situation as he had begun to feel like he didn’t quite fit into his own skin. Harry was led over to the bed by Draco and they both sat on the side, Draco with his arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulders comfortingly. For Harry or for Draco, it wasn’t completely clear.

 

“What happened after I left?” Harry felt a pang of guilt from having ran away from the problem rather than staying to sort it out. For all he knew, he’d made it worse by leaving.

 

“Severus took charge and began defending your right to stay here while McGonagall slipped away with _them_ before I lost it.” There was an underlying growl to Draco’s words, but he managed to stay in his human form as he spoke. Harry nodded slowly and sucked in a deep, shaky breath as he steeled himself.

 

“The rumors going around about Dumbledore knowingly allowing a student to reside with a magic-hating family, they were about me,” Harry began, and was surprised with himself when his voice didn’t crack right away.

 

Even more surprisingly, as Harry continued Draco sat quietly with an open expression. The only time Draco responded while Harry told his story, the one nobody had ever heard in so many words, was when Harry described something especially painful or when Harry got too worked up over reliving some tough points in his life and began to cry or stumble over his words.

 

No matter how hard it was, or how long it took, Harry didn’t stop. He didn’t think about how the other man would react to his words or how Draco might see him after it was all said and done. It made Harry feel surprisingly lighter to talk about such things; like reopening a wound to get rid of an infection, it hurt like hell but at least it would get better.

 

By the time Harry finished, ending with the circumstances surrounding his inheritance, he finally looked up at Draco for the first time in over an hour. Draco looked into his love’s red-rimmed crystal green eyes, wide and vulnerable and full of hope and fear that Draco might reject him now that he knew how much pain still encrusted Harry’s heart. Wanting to never have to see such a look on Harry’s face again, Draco gently brushed away his tears and kissed him so gently it stole the breath from Harry’s lungs.

 

“Can I see them?” Draco whispered lightly against Harry’s lips. The smaller one hesitated, but after searching Draco’s eyes for a moment longer, he nodded slightly. Harry stood up and stepped in front of Draco, who was still sitting on the bed. Draco’s eyes never strayed from his as Harry loosened his tie, slipped it over his head, and unbuttoned his shirt. When the white fabric slid off of Harry’s body and crumpled on the floor at his feet, Draco’s eyes finally left Harry’s face.

 

Harry didn’t move as he felt Draco’s eyes roam over his exposed torso, pausing on each scar he found. After what had felt like an eternity to Harry of waiting for Draco to react, Harry was startled when Draco finally did and it was not at all what he’d been expecting. Draco reached out and softly gripped Harry’s narrow hips before pulling the confused brunet towards him until Harry stood between Draco’s parted knees.

 

At first, Draco only used his hands. Fingertips roamed over the sensitive expanse of skin, tracing scars with the gentle tentativeness of a lover. Harry didn’t have many scars that had lasted the years and magical healing, but the few that remained were enough. Then, Draco leaned forward and his lips took the place of his hands, leaving trails of kisses in his wake that had Harry’s breath coming out heavy and his lids dropping low when a cool tongue glided over his ribs.

 

Distantly, Harry knew what was happening. Draco was accepting him, all of him, and writing over his pain with pleasure and love. Draco wanted Harry to think only of him when he saw the scars, and it only made Harry love him all the more.

 

Harry slid his fingers into Draco’s hair, head tilting back slightly and his eyes fully closing as Draco striped a fiery and icy trail over his abdomen. Hands slid down over the curve of his arse and gripped the back of his thighs firmly as blunt teeth clamped down on his sensitive side. Harry’s back arched forward and a breathy moan filled the air.

 

That night, though things didn’t get intimate in the traditional sense, Draco laid Harry down on his bed and kneaded concern into his body with his hands, wrote vows of love with his tongue, and sealed them indefinitely with his kiss. Instead of spending the night raw and in pain from the day’s events like he’d expected, Harry felt loved and safe. He fell asleep in Draco’s arms with a sense of contentment he’d never experienced before.

 

 ֎

 

At the edge of a wood, a harrowed cottage was nestled in a crescent of trees. A humble village not far from the cottage, but far enough to not witness the cloaked figures slipping in and out of the cottage with a softly glowing fire in the hearth. Through a hidden stair, down below the cottage a bustling pub was hidden. Only creatures of darkness were allowed to enter the small pub, ensuring its inhabitants would be safe.

 

Hidden among the shadows was a figure wrapped in a black cloak, face unseen under the deep hood. The figure was turned away from the rest, seeming to be ignoring everything else in the pub, but in fact, he was listening quite keenly to a pair with heads bent closely together. Taking in every word that left their drunken lips.

 

“’Ah aint lyin’!” The first man slammed a fist on the table in frustration, voice heavy with what vaguely resembled an Irish accent. “Just as I’s told yuh’, one o’ doe’s Izaki’s be found holin’ up at that there school! Hogwarts, wan’in it? They say he be more powerful than those born out ‘ere in a long time!” The man proclaimed rowdily, but the other looked unconvinced and just waved his friend off dismissively.

 

The figure left then, having heard his fill. The stranger left the den of dark creatures and slipped seamlessly into the words. A grin twisted onto figure’s face, the flash of white teeth the only thing visible from under the hood.

 

 _“Got-cha!”_ He gleefully sang into the night air. The forest shied away from the delighted and crazed laughter that echoed through the trees.

 


	5. Chapter Five: Closure

 

Thick white fog curled over the black lake, rolling along its surface like a prowling feline. The sleeping castle was hugged tightly by the dense blanket in the early morning light. The Scottish sky was a predictably overcast, and its muddled light seemed to make the damp air soak even further into the robes of anyone who had the will to leave warm, dry rooms.

 

One stood alone amidst the white cover, unconcerned by the cold, damp robes weighing down his body as he watched the quiet school with dark anticipation. Full lips pulled back from large white fangs in an unsettling grin.

 

 _“Ready or not, little one,_ _here I come!”_

 

Harry had gone to sleep feeling loved and adored, but when he awoke the next morning, he couldn’t ignore the clenching in his chest. He didn’t regret having told Draco the truth about his past, in fact, Harry couldn’t see how the night before could have gone _better._ But now in the morning light, forced to return to their lives, to reality, Harry felt uneasy.

 

He felt like an exposed nerve—vulnerable to even the slightest brush of air. Last night Draco had taken the time and patience to peel back all of Harry’s layers, until Harry was completely unwound and laid out for Draco to covet. The process had been exhilarating and exhausting at the same time, but when it was over Harry felt boneless and connected to Draco in a way he’d never felt before. The bond between them had strengthened that night, Harry could feel it deep in his bones. He didn’t know how he knew, or what exactly that meant for them, but he wasn’t going to question something that felt so . . . _right._

 

The following morning, however, left Harry to face the consequences—both good and bad—of revealing what he had. He knew that it wouldn’t exactly be the same between Draco and him anymore. Draco would be by his side while he went through the process of healing, seeing more than the bright smiles and sharp wit of his beloved. Draco would do what no one else has ever dared to do for Harry— _love him,_ and love _all of him._

 

Harry turned his face up towards Draco from where he was laying on the blonde’s chest. Harry was only mildly surprised to see him awake and watching Harry with a small smile on his face. Draco’s fingers slipped into the soft black locks and gently massaged his scalp, causing the smaller man’s eyes to fall shut and lean into the touch as a shiver ran through him.

 

They technically had class at that moment, but Harry remembered half-waking up sometime around six to Draco standing at the door and talking to someone who sounded a lot like Snape. Harry only caught a bit of the hushed conversation, something about them not attending classes today, and he really couldn’t find any problem with that. Not with the bed being so warm.

 

Harry savored the sensations for a few minutes, before sitting up and regretfully pulling out of Draco’s grasp. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, grey morning light filling the room and reflecting the heavy feeling in Harry’s chest as his thoughts swam through his muddled brain and forced him away from the sweet comfort of the one he loves. He felt Draco getting closer before they actually touched and Draco pressed against his back with his broad chest and brushed his lips over the exposed pale column of Harry’s neck. Arms wrapped around his middle like vines and pulled Harry closer to that soothing warmth at his back.

 

The brunet sighed weightily and overlapped his arms with the ones encircling his waist, brushing his thumb absently over the solid forearm beneath his hand. It felt good to have Draco know, especially now that Harry knew he wouldn’t have to feel like he was deceiving Draco before completing their mating. Harry would never regret letting Draco in.

 

What he didn’t like, was the fact that more people were finding out about it, about that part of himself that he had hid for so many years, that so many had rejected and treated like weakness. It was different when he’d spread the rumors about Dumbledore’s neglect around the school, because no one knew it was him. He could hide behind the lack of detailed information and Harry knew Dumbledore wouldn’t allow anyone to know about such details due to his own reputation hanging in the balance. Harry had thought that Dumbledore’s sense of self-preservation would have protected him.

 

But Harry had been wrong to think Dumbledore wouldn’t be dumb enough to risk exposing himself in the process of trying to take Harry down. Harry had once again underestimated the old coot’s affinity for manipulations. Dumbledore was prepared to expose it all to the world and turn Harry into a pitiful basket case. Appearing as a savior to the world as he swooped in to protect Harry from the evil muggles, while simultaneously discrediting and _destroying_ everything Harry had built in the past three months in regards to his political and social standing. There were enough people he’d pissed off by his overzealous legislative goals that they would take that information to blacklist him from ever being of any sort of political influence again, claiming he was not of sound mind.

 

Harry couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let Dumbledore win in one fell swoop of his withered old hands with something Harry had meant to use _against him!_ It’s unfortunate, Harry had wanted to use the Dursley’s as another tool to dismantle Dumbledore’s life, but he’d made the mistake of using something too close to himself, he sees that now. The Dursley’s had become too much of a liability and he could no longer hold out on what he would eventually have to do to them.

 

“You know what I need to do.” Harry’s voice was hard in the cool morning air, Draco stilled from where he’d been kissing and lightly biting at Harry’s neck to try and distract him. He knew that Draco was aware of exactly what he was talking about.

 

With the bond becoming stronger between them, Harry could feel Draco’s emotions in the back of his mind and the entire night and morning he’d been picking up on undertones of slow-burning wrath that Draco did quite well at hiding. Not well enough, though. Harry knew that Draco was constantly fighting the urge to go straight to the small Surry house and claim his revenge for Harry. The only thing that probably kept him from doing just that, was the knowledge that Harry needed Draco right now, and his Izaki would concede with the needs of its mate over all else.

 

“If it needs to be done now, I will go. You shouldn’t ever have to look at their disgusting faces again.” Draco growled, his grip on Harry unconsciously tightening in a protective manner. Harry frowned and turned around, straddling Draco’s lap as he placed both hands on the side of his face, forcing those chilling silver eyes to meet his as he spoke.

 

“No, this is something _I_ must do, Draco.”

 

“It won’t make you feel any better.” Draco’s words were firm with a deep rumble of displeasure. Draco’s brows pulled together as he frowned, his jaw clenching and eyes full of worry.

 

“I know. But it won’t make me feel any worse and I need closure. I can’t let anyone end it but me.” Harry’s determined and somber tone had Draco eventually resigning with a deep sigh and a shake of his head.

 

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.” Draco’s tone was non-negotiating, but Harry was nothing if not stubborn.

 

“Draco,” Harry argued softly. “This isn’t going to be . . . easy, by any means. Just because it’s something I need to do and quickly, doesn’t mean I’ll make it quick _for them_ . You have to understand, this isn’t ‘for the greater good’ or ‘destiny’ bollocks. I’m not hiding behind any pretense of this being anything but me _killing_ other people because they’ve gotten in my way and they’re not exactly upstanding citizens. I’m taking _lives._ I don’t want you there to see that, to see _me_ like that.-” Draco cut Harry off before the brunet worked himself up any more than he already had.

 

“Harry. I think you’re forgetting that I used to be a Death Eater. I’ve seen and done unspeakable things. I am no stranger to death and you ridding the world of a couple of absolute monsters isn’t going to scare me off. Merlin, whatever you plan to do would probably be a mercy compared to what I wish to do to those vermin!” Draco spat, a flash of white fangs and claws lightly pressed against his cloth covered hips telling Harry just how much Draco meant that.

 

Harry felt slightly ashamed and a whole lot embarrassed about his spike in arousal at the sight of his love losing his white-knuckle grip on his control. Draco must have caught on to the sudden change in Harry, because he transformed completely and pulled Harry’s hips down harder until the proof of Harry’s arousal was hard pressed against Draco’s own growing erection. It was like a switch had been flipped inside both of them. Harry was discomfited with the fact that they were able to go from arguing to _this_ without barely any prompting at all. With them drawing out the completion of the mating bond for so long, their internal Izaki’s raged war on their libidos and made resisting each other nearly impossible. It was only a matter of time before their wills gave out completely and they consummated it.

 

They merged in a clash of wet lips and sharp teeth with a bruising desperation. Harry slowly ground into Draco, sending flashes of pleasure through his body that only fed the fire inside of him. Harry’s tongue slipped into Draco’s mouth and all the air was sucked from the room. As it always seemed to do when they kissed, Harry’s mind went blissfully blank.

 

Distracted by the deepening kiss, Harry had stopped rotating his hips and Draco let out a guttural growl as one hand moved down to grab his pajama covered arse with the other still gripping his hip hard enough to possibly leave delicious bruises and slammed him back down, his cock flush with Draco’s. Harry whimpered against Draco’s lips and his own Izaki form came to the surface. Harry’s tail wrapped around the arm that had a grip on his arse, urging him on as he continued his previous movements from before with vigor.

 

Harry felt the slight wetness against his hip from his precome leaking out of his straining cock in his pants. Draco moved down to his neck and with his mouth no longer obstructed, Harry moaned into the morning air. Harry wrapped a steadying arm around Draco’s shoulders and his other hand slipped into that beautiful blonde hair, tugging it into a ravished, sexy mess.

 

Draco pulled away from him only for a moment long enough to yank both of their shirts off. Harry’s eyes hungrily consumed the sight of Draco’s bare torso; he was far more muscular and toned than Harry remembered from those brief moments he’d seen Draco without a shirt as they made out. Harry wanted to see that same body slicked with a thin layer of sweat, muscles taunt and jumping as he thrusted into him. He wanted to be caught in those entrancing silver eyes as Draco climaxed. Harry’s mouth began to water, presented with his lover’s perfection and all the possibilities, all the fantasies.

 

With more access, Draco planted open–mouthed kisses all over Harry’s neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach. Harry’s wings fluttered and his tail tightened on Draco’s arm once before slipping off, completely lax as Harry melted into Draco, his eyes half-lidded and body pliable. Draco gripped the base of Harry’s tail and Harry keened, claws pressing into Draco’s shoulders unwittingly. _That was new._

 

Harry sucked in a breath when Draco suddenly lifted him up and flipped them over so that Harry was on his back with Draco was braced over him, their mouths locked in frantic kisses. Harry tucked his wings up close to his body so that they wouldn’t knock anything over on the bedside table, or, you know, across the room. Thankfully, Harry’s full weight on the wings wasn’t uncomfortable, he barely noticed it actually. Sea tides raged under Harry’s skin as Draco’s tender kisses trailed down his neck, over his chest, warm tongue flicking out briefly to tease a pink bud, and then down Harry’s stomach. Draco’s lips worshiped his body and his tongue took Holy Communion of each sensitive expanse.

 

When Draco reached Harry’s trousers, fingers already hooked around the elastic of both trousers and pants, he looked up at Harry then. A slight flush high on his cheeks but his expression was otherwise clear.

 

“Is this alright?” Draco’s pleasure-hoarse voice sent shivers down Harry’s back. Harry nodded fervently.

 

“Y-yes! Please.” Harry’s own voice sounded so far gone to his own ears it was shocking, but not shocking enough to distract him from the blinding smile he was receiving from Draco as the remainder of his clothing was slowly—and that means _slowly_ —removed, fingers brushing over his thighs as they went.

 

Even with how desperate Harry was to have Draco touch him again, Harry still found himself blushing deeply as his lover leaned back and drank in his completely stark naked body. All nervousness or embarrassment was immediately forgotten Draco moved down and began to kiss his way up the inside of Harry’s thighs. Harry’s mind went blank with need and his fingers fisted in Draco’s hair when he got closer to what Harry wanted him to pay the most attention to.

 

Breath flitted over Harry’s throbbing erection and he groaned, needing Draco’s touch. Harry lifted his head off of the pillow to look down at Draco poised between his pale thighs, his expression ravenous with desire as he held Harry’s wanton gaze. Their eyes never left each other as Draco took hold of Harry and ran his tongue along the underside of Harry’s hard cock. Harry mewled, head falling back against the pillow and his neck stretching taut as he relinquished control over his body to the sensations eclipsing his mind.

 

Draco seemed to lose himself to the ministrations of tasting his little Izaki all over; curling his tongue around the tip, sliding the beautiful pale cock into his mouth (having long since rid himself of his fangs so as not to risk hurting Harry unintentionally), and pressing down until his love pressed against the back of his throat and Harry’s cries were all he could hear. Draco had to hold his lover's hips down firmly to keep the brunet from accidentally thrusting up and choking him.

 

Draco could do this forever, turn his Harry into a panting, pliant, whimpering mess as he brought him ever closer to the edge, but he knew Harry wouldn’t last much longer, even though Harry couldn’t coherently form sentences at the moment. He could tell by the reflexive bowing of Harry’s back and the way his feet dug into and kicked at the sheets, causing his legs to fall open under Draco. Draco took advantage of the position and pushed Harry’s legs up further until they hung off of his shoulders and Harry opened up for him beautifully.

 

He pulled off of Harry for a moment, met with whines from a needy Harry, to slick his fingers up with his saliva before going back to what he was doing before. This time, though, Draco slid his fingers between the crease of his lover’s delectable arse and rubbed his fingers over his entrance, causing Harry to suck in a sharp breath and curse lowly in an exhale.

 

Harry was unprepared for the new sensation, but he couldn’t say it was an unwelcome one. Draco’s fingers massaged the tight ring of muscle and Harry pressed against it as his orgasm built momentum. Just as Harry was approaching the edge, a slick finger pushed inside and Harry couldn’t even breathe out a warning as he felt himself reach a mind-blowing end. Harry felt his magic push out against the walls of the room, trembling and free.

 

Draco pulled the blanket up around him and Harry as he laid next to his blissed-out lover. Harry curled around Draco lazily, sated and in very high spirits.

 

“I take that as a yes, I can go with you.” Harry could hear the smirk in Draco’s voice. Harry laughed breathlessly and slapped Draco’s shoulder lightly with his face still buried in Draco’s chest.

 

“Prick.” Harry retorted, but the heat was lost when Harry grinned through it.

 

Harry had wanted to return the favor—quite eagerly, in fact—as soon as he wasn’t too lax to even move, but Draco had blushed and confessed that he’d already finished. Apparently Harry hadn’t been imagining things when he thought a hand had disappeared halfway through.

 

To say the least, Harry was disappointed he didn’t get to try his hand at turning _Draco_ into the speechless, moaning mess. Though he’d promised Harry that they would do it again soon because at the moment, they had business to attend to. Which was Draco-code for breakfast. Harry wasn’t put out, he knew that now that they’d tried it, it would take an army to keep them apart. They would most certainly be doing it again, and _soon_.

 

Draco had asked several times if he’d just like to stay in the rooms for the day and have the elves bring their meals to them, but Harry didn’t need to be alone. As tempting as it was to spend the entire day cooped up in his room, Harry refused to give Dumbledore the satisfaction of hiding away after such a bold ploy. He would avoid his classes—because Harry wasn’t ready to jump back into _that_ shit fest the day after having his life shaken violently up again—but he would go to the meals and walk the halls, letting the headmaster see that he wasn’t as concerned as the old man had hoped.

 

When he and Draco walked into breakfast, Harry only gave Dumbledore a blank look, which dashed the wizard’s obviously high-spirits a little that morning. Harry sat at his Slytherin table and began serving himself breakfast, not really listening to the conversation around him. It was as Harry was buttering a piece of toast that Draco touched his elbow to get his attention and nodded his head in the direction of the Gryffindor table. It didn’t take long to spot what Draco was spying.

 

Ron sat alone at the full table of Gryffindors. A good meter of space between him and anyone else, despite the decreasing amount of available space at the table. His head was ducked low and he was curled in on himself slightly. Every time he did look up, it was to glare at anyone who stared at his battered and bruised face for too long.

 

Seeming fed up with having to keep looking up to glare, Ron swept his murderous glare out across the room so that everyone got a taste of it. When it fell on Harry, however, Ron immediately stiffened and dropped his head back down and didn’t raise it until he’d decidedly finished eating and left.

 

Harry chuckled at the dramatics and Draco raised an impressed eyebrow at the man next to him.

 

“Now I’m curious, you told me you dealt out a bit of Potter-Justice on the sod, but he looked _terrified_ when he saw you.” Instead of sounding perturbed at all by this, Draco sounded slightly in awe.

 

Harry puffed up a little bit at the praise, but cleared his throat and brushed it off when he noticed the others around the table giving him knowing smiles. Well, they came from mostly Pansy, but he saw the other’s lips quirk as they pretended to not be listening or paying attention. Harry shrugged and continued to butter his toast. He took a bite and swallowed before answering.

 

“I just put a figurative muzzle on his magic, is all. He won’t hurt anyone anymore unless I give permission. Honestly, he shouldn’t be considered a _lion_ if he acts like a _dog._ ” Harry scowled and tore out another bite of his toast viciously as everyone who’d been close enough to hear that last part cracked up.

 

Draco fell into conversation with Theo about some retiring Ministry bigwig and who they thought might take his place. Harry wasn’t keen on talking politics unless it could benefit him in some way, so he tuned it out to scan the Gryffindor table again until he spotted who he was looking for.

 

Hermione was seated far away from the spot Ron had vacated, and had been staring straight at Harry when he spotted her. Instead of casting him guilty puppy-dog eyes like she’d taken to recently, there was a fierce set to her expression and she tilted her head to the side in the direction of the doors. She wanted to talk to Harry, probably alone, as well.

 

“I’ve got something to take care of quickly, I’ll meet you back at the room.” Harry said to Draco as he climbed off of the bench in a refined manner, though his eyes didn’t leave Hermione as she walked out of the dining hall before him. When Draco saw who he was watching, he placed a gentle hand on Harry’s arm to draw his attention back to the blonde for a moment.

 

“Just be careful, and remember, whatever she says, you don’t owe her anything.” Draco declared firmly and Harry grinned. He could almost hear the unspoken ‘ _sentimental git’_ that came from the look Draco gave him.

 

Harry found Hermione in an empty corridor not far from the dining hall, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper as she worried her bottom lip through her teeth. When she saw Harry, that same resolute look came over her face and she straightened up.

 

“Firstly, I wanted to say thank you for saving my life even though you had every reason not to, and _still_ have every reason not to. Secondly . . . I want to say that I’m sorry, Harry. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I just want you to know that I am so sorry, for everything. Even though Ron has been the most horrible in how he treats you, I only have myself to blame for my behavior. I should have-- . . . I should have _been there_ for you!” Hermione’s eyes were watering with barely contained tears as she kept looking between Harry and everything else, as if not wanting to look at him while at the same time not wanting to look away.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In the beginning, we were _so close_ , I thought nothing would ever tear us apart. But when Ron started pushing us away, I panicked and clung to him as tightly as I could, thinking it would bring him back to both of us. I was wrong, instead he turned on you and I turned with him because I was desperate to keep him.

 

“What I didn’t realize, was that it would hurt _far_ worse to lose you than it would to lose Ron. I thought I loved him, and that that kind of love was stronger and took priority over friendships, but it doesn’t. I love you Harry, you’re like my brother; a brother I chose that wasn’t tied to me through blood, but through bond. You won’t have to hear from me again. I just needed you to know that even though these last couple of years have been bad between us, it wasn’t fake. What we had in the beginning was real and I still care about you.” The pain in Hermione’s voice was apparent as she said goodbye for the last time.

 

Not really thinking through what he was doing, Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm as she turned to walk away and pulled her straight into his arms. Thick curly hair tickled his face as Hermione’s arms automatically wrapped around Harry and she buried her face in his chest. Harry could feel the warm evidence of tears soaking quickly through his shirt and he rubbed a hand over Hermione’s quaking back as she broke down. Hermione’s hands were fisted in the back of Harry’s robes, clinging on for dear life.

 

Harry wasn’t sure exactly how long they stood there, but he didn’t really care. Harry held Hermione and comforted her until she’d calmed down and was no longer crying, though she didn’t let go. Harry felt a bit of the weight pressing down on him lift away as he mended a bridge he thought was gone forever.

 

“You know, I made sure Ron would never cause harm to anyone else again.” Harry said with a satisfied smirk as Hermione pulled back to look at him incredulously.

 

“How?” Hermione sounded disbelieving, though Harry didn’t blame her. If someone had said the same thing to him, he would have taken them to St. Mungo’s to get their sanity tested.

 

“The ‘how’ doesn’t really matter. What matters, is that it involved Ron getting the daylights beaten out of him and now he can’t even harm a fly without some serious consequences.” Harry grinned evilly and Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled out of his arms.

 

“Good! The world would be a better place if he just disappeared.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Harry’s face became completely serious as he looked at Hermione and said,

 

“That can be arranged.” Harry deadpanned. Hermione gave him a surprised look, but didn’t object to the proposition right away. When Harry couldn’t hold back his grin any longer, she rolled her eyes again and shook her head. No, as long as those blasted, brilliant twins still wanted the prat alive, he would remain that way.

 

“So, you and Draco, huh?” Hermione leveled him with a critical look as she broached the subject. “Does he treat you well? Do you like him? I swear, if he lays _one finger_ on that messy head of yours in the wrong way I’ll—!” Hermione gave Harry a fiery look that promised much pain to anyone who dare harm him. Harry interrupted her before she imploded or her hair caught fire.

 

“ _Yes!_ Okay? Yes, he treats me well, and yes, I love him more than anything else in this world. I can handle myself quite well now, Hermione. Anyways, shouldn’t you be in class?” Harry reminded the fuming witch to distract her from noticing his easy exclamation of love, and just like that, she transformed back into her studious-strict self as she cast a _tempus_ charm with her wand and cursed before yelling a quick goodbye over her shoulder and racing away down the hall to get to her first class of the day, which she was now ten minutes late for.

 

Harry felt lighter as he roamed the empty halls, taking the long way back to the dorms in order to buy himself more time to think over what had just happened. Harry smiled to himself as he leisurely made his way back, feeling lighter for having mended things with Hermione. She might have been a bad friend these past couple of years, but she was right—their friendship _had_ been real before everything went to shite. It would probably never go back to being like it was before, not now that they had a bad history together, but perhaps they could get close.

 

“You really are quite a sight to behold.” The unfamiliar voice from behind Harry had him whipping around and taking a defensive step back. Ten feet away stood a man that looked no more than a year or two older than Harry and about the same height as Draco.

 

Harry’s nostrils flared as he caught the man’s scent and immediately recognized him as a Dominant Izaki. But he didn’t smell like Draco had, Harry felt no pull towards this man except for the slight sense of community that came with them being the same species. It was just how Draco had described his own encounters with other Izaki before Harry. Harry crouched slightly and let out a dangerous growl at the seemingly unfazed Izaki before him. The Izaki grinned and lifted his hands in front of him as if he were trying to stave off a dangerous animal.

 

“Do not worry little one, I am not here to harm you. I only came to see who everyone had been talking about and perhaps find a mate, but I see you are already mated. Shame, you would have looked lovely at my side. Though, I suppose you would look lovely anywhere doing anything.” His grin widened in a predatory manner, but slipped slightly when Harry growled again. The man actually looked nervous now, eyes flicking from Harry’s extended fangs, to his claws, to his glowing emerald eyes.

 

“As I’ve just said, I’m not here to hurt you or try to claim you. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not _barbaric!_ But now that I’m here, I figured I’d stick around and perhaps help you come into your own. We both know how much those bloody bastards on the inside like to skimp out on information for us free-range-Izaki.” The man sneered and that caught Harry’s interest. Harry pulled in his Izaki traits and stepped out of a defensive position, straightening his robes slightly before giving the Izaki a more civilized look.

 

“What’s your name?” Harry’s voice still had a hard edge to it, but he wouldn’t outright attack the other Izaki, even if he _really_ wanted to.

 

“Malphus, but you can call my Mal.” Mal said with a devious smirk and Harry rolled his eyes at the name.

 

“ _Really?_ ‘Malphus’? Of _course_ the first Izaki I meet besides Draco is named after a demon!” Harry’s face scrunched up at the irony of it. Mal just shrugged with an amused careless air about him.

 

“What? My parents had one hell of a sense of humor! And you must be the famed Harry Potter. I must admit, you are far more _divine_ in person.” There was that predatory grin again.

 

“You’re really here to help me? Why? What’s in it for you?” Harry asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the strange Izaki before him.

 

Harry had to admit, Mal was quite handsome. He was about as tall as Draco, but not as muscular, he had more of a lean body, like a swimmer. His hair was long and straight—ending just under his shoulder blades—and was a platinum blonde with random blood red streaks shot through. His hair was half pulled back and tied off with a thin band, and in the hair that hung down loosely around his shoulders, Harry could see a few small braids throughout that added a wild look to him. His face was all sharp planes and high cheekbones that really set off that _inhuman-beauty_. His eyes were a rich honey brown with the faintest hint of reddish-brown around the pupil. There were two small dark moles right under his left eye. He was dressed in dark, stylish muggle clothes under his black outer robe with red dragonhide boots on his feet.

 

“A reprieve from the boredom that plagues my life these days!” Mal sighed dramatically and studied his nails. “I came all the way out here because I heard some spectacular rumors about a very powerful Izaki being at Hogwarts this year. Don’t worry your pretty little head, though, this rumor is strictly among creatures, they would rather die than tell those sodding cunts about the whereabouts of an Izaki. Most of them may not be too pretty or nice, but those little prats are loyal to a fault. A whole ‘us’ against ‘them’ sort of deal.” Mal shrugged and turned his attention away from his nails to look at Harry again.

 

“Okay. . . So, what? You’re here to alleviate your tedium by hanging out with the local Izaki? And what did you mean when you said you’d help me?” Harry lifted a brow and Mal chucked.

 

“You’re new, I can tell you’ve only just come into your powers recently. I don’t know much about us as a species, just bits and pieces I’ve picked up over the past few decades, but I have the practical knowledge that’ll keep you and your mate from getting caught. Such a beautiful creature, it would be a _sin_ to take you away from the outside world.” Mal looked Harry up and down and Harry rolled his eyes again.

 

“I suppose getting you to leave won’t be as easy as just telling you to ‘fuck off’, would it?” Harry drawled in annoyance. Mal pressed a hand to his chest and gaped in mock-horror.

 

“Oi! Look, I’m not taking the piss, mate. I actually want to help you, and there are some things you probably don’t know at this point.” Mal argued.

 

“Like what?” Harry asked simply, genuinely curious about what the bloke might have to offer.

 

“How about learning to contain and hide your natural magical field around you. Usually it’s not that big of a deal for Izaki, since detection charms specifically for us only work when the Izaki is right under their noses, but you’re like a bloody beacon! Plus, with a magical field that big, the ministry won’t bother trying to wrestle you into Terra di Morte, they’ll just straight up kill you! It also totally doesn’t help that you have a mate. Izaki are certainly more powerful together—hence me coming here, looking for a non-human mate—and if you’re aura wasn’t loud enough on its own, a mating bond will be like steroids for both of your magic!” Mal waved his arms around wildly, gesturing towards the space surrounding Harry.

 

Harry watched Mal for long moments, debating the reliability of the stranger before him and whether it would be worth the risk. Finally seeming to have decided on his next course of action, Harry nodded and waved a hand for Mal to follow him. Harry wasn’t surprised when he looked back and didn’t see anyone there, it didn’t matter because Harry could still sense Mal’s presence and knew he was just powerfully disillusioned so that anybody who came across them wouldn’t see Mal and start firing off questions left and right.

 

Harry led Mal back to the Slytherin dorms and didn’t stop to look at anyone in the common room as he passed through. The other Slytherins knew that if Harry looked like that, it was not a good idea to try and stop him for a quick chat. Harry opened the door to his dorm room just as Draco was standing up from the bed, having felt him approaching. The brilliant smile died on Draco’s lips as his nostrils flared and his eyes shot passed Harry to stare at the empty space of the hallway.

 

Draco immediately grabbed Harry and pulled him behind his body as he growled at the door that had just appeared to have shut on its own. Once the door was close, Mal revealed himself and looked more than a little terrified. Mal’s hands shot up in surrender like they had before, but Draco didn’t relax one bit.

 

“It’s okay, love. I brought him here. He had some interesting things to say.” Harry said calmly, as if he wouldn’t at all be fazed if Draco leapt across the room and ripped out the other Izaki’s throat for even coming near his soon-to-be mate. Harry wasn’t in the least bit concerned when he realized that it was true. Mal was funny, but if he posed any sort of threat to them, Harry would feel no remorse about digging his claws into him himself.

 

Draco only stopped growling and snapping at Mal when Harry rested a hand on his shoulder. Draco kept a murderous glare on Mal as he reached behind him, curling an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him up tightly against his side and pressing a nose against Harry’s neck to ensure that Harry wasn’t at all harmed or injured. Harry also suspected that Draco was checking to see if Mal had even touched Harry, which he was sure would cause his lover to go into a frenzy and kill the older Izaki.

 

Draco didn’t go into a murderous rage every time someone touched Harry, though he did scowl at them for a while if the touch wasn’t an accident. Harry thought that this case might have been different because it was an unfamiliar Izaki Dominant who might have touched his prospective mate. Also, the bloke was kind of leery and his unabashed gaze felt slightly invasive.

 

Draco growled lowly in warning for Mal to start talking, and fast. Mal jumped into taking about the rumors that were spreading about Harry among the creature folk and how they led him here, though wisely leaving out how Mal had come here intending to possibly take Harry as a mate. Harry was also able to hear more about Mal, now that the Izaki was gushing to keep his head firmly attached to the rest of his body.

 

Apparently Mal was an East-Londoner Cockney, born in the early twentieth century, and has been traveling the world most of his life, gathering information here and there on Izaki and partying until he didn’t know his own name. Harry wasn’t surprised to hear that Mal was a trouble-maker, he seemed like the kind of delinquent bastard to invoke chaos to entertain himself.

 

Mal explained that after hearing rumors of such a powerful new Izaki, he’d wanted to make sure that they were being safe about how they were getting on in life. Which seemed partially true, surprisingly enough, in Harry’s eyes.

 

After several serious threats from Draco were voiced, the intimidating blonde relaxed enough to loosen his grip on Harry and settle back into his human form. Sensing that he was back in the clear, Mal grinned at the pair as he strode over to Harry’s desk, pulled out the chair and plopped himself down, feet propped up on his desk.

 

“I must say, the two of you certainly make a handsome couple! Are you certain you don’t want to try _other options_ before you tie the knot?” Mal suggested with a wiggling of his brows and had to immediately duck as a dark curse was shot at his head.

 

For the rest of the week, Harry returned to his classes with Draco. He and Hermione talked nonstop the day after she’d approached him to apologize. Without Ron around, it was like nothing had even happened. Though of course it couldn’t be completely the same as before. Harry was different. Hermione was different. They still made it work though.

 

Mal tended to pop up every time they weren’t around others—which became rather aggravating considering they wanted to spend that time together _alone_ —and included himself in nearly everything they did with a flair of sarcasm and dark humor. Draco barely tolerated Mal every time he opened his mouth, but Harry found him hilarious when he wasn’t being a perverted creep.

 

A lot of the things Mal had to tell Harry were things he already knew, or could have figured out fairly easily on his own, but that didn’t discourage the Izaki from spending his entire day around the pair or wreaking havoc on the rest of the school—mostly harmless stuff. Though, Mal did teach Harry how to hide his unconscious magical output. Harry had asked Mal if he knew how to communicate with those inside Terra di Morte, but it was a wasted effort.

 

“Sorry, Harry. I’m afraid we only get the outgoing connections. I’ve heard rumors of others successfully contacting those on the inside, but I have no knowledge on how they do it. I’ve only been in contact twice in my life: once when I first reached my inheritance, and again in the late fifties when I was briefly warned of a large Izaki hunt and cull that would be happening in my area. It had been too brief to get any information about their situation, and I hadn’t been especially focused on that at the time with the . . . you know . . . Izaki cull.” Mal gave Harry an apologetic look when the brunet sighed in disappointment. It was discouraging to say the least.

 

When they reached the end of the week, Harry had told Snape that he wanted to talk to him in his office once classes were out. Snape was already in his office when Harry got there and put up all the usual wards. Harry could see the slight concern in his eyes as he watched Harry. They hadn’t really sat down and spoken since the incident with Harry’s relatives, but Harry knew that Draco was talking to Severus once a day about how he was fairing. Harry didn’t mind, he knew that Draco wouldn’t discuss anything he didn’t want shared. Harry trusted Draco enough for that.

 

“I figured I should tell you what I’ve decided to do in concerns to my relatives.” Harry stated evenly as he sat gracefully in the chair opposite Severus. Severus’s eyebrows shot up and he unconsciously leaned forward.

 

“Whatever you decide, Harry, you know I’ll support your decision whole-heartedly.” Snape reigned in his anticipation and covered it well.

 

“They have become quite a concern, a double-edged sword, if you will. Although they have the potential of being a great weapon against Dumbledore, they can also be used against me, and I don’t like taking such risks. Which means that the Dursleys need to be . . . _taken care of_.” Harry chose his words carefully, knowing that coming off as irrational or too emotional would not give Severus any sort of confidence.

 

Severus visibly paled, but otherwise showed no other indication that this bothered him. He didn’t have a problem with the outcome, he just didn’t want Harry to be the one to do it.

 

“When?”

 

“Tonight.” Harry wouldn’t withhold anything from Severus. They both knew that Snape couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to. Snape still looked uncertain.

 

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Harry?” Severus’s face morphed into more visible concern and Harry’s expression softened as he held his Head of House’s gaze.

 

“Yes.” Harry didn’t hesitate to answer. His voice calm yet firm. Severus nodded slowly, seeming to accept Harry’s decision reluctantly.

 

“Draco will be coming with me, though I will be the one to do it.” Harry imparted as he stood, straightening his robes and not quite looking Severus in the eye. Harry paused at the door, only turning half way to say, “I will send word when it is done.” Then he left Severus’s office.

 

Harry stopped by his room briefly to change out of his school robes into tailored dark blue robes. Harry thought that when the time came, he would be a mess, that he would be too full of frantic thoughts and frayed emotions, but that was not what he felt at all as he fastened his elegant outer robe and left his room. His mind was serenely calm, quiet even.

 

Harry strode through the halls with the purpose of getting outside and to the forbidden forest quickly. Draco would be waiting for him there. Unfortunately, Mal hadn’t seemed able to break his habit of popping up when either Harry or Draco were away from others. One moment, Harry was alone in the corridor, and the next, Mal was matching his pace beside him with a mischievous smirk on his face.

 

“Oh my, it seems that my favorite Hogwarts student is up to something. Might I ask what you’re doing?” Mal inquired curiously as he followed Harry out of the school and towards the Forbidden Forest.

 

“I’m tending to business.” Was all Harry said, not missing a stride and his voice placid, knowing that now Mal had caught up with him he would be inviting himself along whether Harry wanted him to or not. From the stories he’d heard from Mal, the man was no stranger to death and torture. Mal seemed to be the type to indulge in everything life could offer and for a long time didn’t hold many concerns for the consequences of his actions, as long as they didn’t land him in Terra di Morte.

 

Draco met them at the edge of the forest and raised an inquisitive brow at the presence of their little friend. Harry only shrugged and shook his head, not really having an explanation.

 

All three Izaki moved through the forest deftly as night settled in, not inhibited by the lack of light. Once they’d passed the anti-apparation wards, Harry side-along apparated Mal. Harry had already made sure that Draco knew where they needed to apparate to before that evening.

 

When Harry appeared across the street from his childhood nightmare of a home, he and Mal were already heavily disillusioned. Harry heard a pop a second later and knew that Draco had arrived.

 

“Why are we here?” Mal asked in a low tone, already cautious from being disillusioned so quickly after arriving. Harry answered half-heartedly as his eyes locked on the house.

 

“Business.” He said in a flat tone. Mal snorted beside him and he could imagine the monumental eye roll Mal was giving him at that moment. Draco moved to the other side of Harry, his shoulder brushing against Harry’s and their fingers automatically found each other and intertwined.

 

“What do we do now?” Draco breathed out, giving Harry’s hand a small squeeze in a comforting gesture.

 

“We wait until all of them get here and go to sleep. Then we will go inside and I will put up wards before I begin.” Harry heard Mal shift beside him and he knew that the other Izaki’s interest had been piqued once again.

 

They waited in silence as first Dudley arrived—dropped off by one of his delinquent friends—then around ten o'clock Vernon got back and Harry contained his revulsion when he saw the vile man to keep Draco from worrying. The waited anxiously in the chilling night air as one by one, lights were ticked off at a grueling pace. When the last light finally turned off, Harry made them wait another hour before approaching the house.

 

At the door, Harry did a wandless _alohomora_ on the door and it swung open a few inches with a loud squeak. The three entered the quiet, darkened home and dropped the disillusionment spells once the door was closed behind them. Harry put up privacy wards around the entire house so that anyone outside the house would hear and see nothing. When they reach the living room, Harry turned to face the other two.

 

“Wait here until I’m done.” Harry whispered, and when Draco opened his mouth to argue, Harry sent him a glare that would have curdled milk. They had already talked about it— _multiple times—_ and Harry wasn’t about to argue it out again now that they were there!

 

Harry silently moved up to the second floor where the Dursleys slept. Harry slipped into Dudley’s room first, soundlessly shutting the door behind him before casting an _immobulus—_ freezing charm—on the sleeping form under the duvet. Harry pulled off the blanket to find Dudley’s eyes blinking open in confusion at first, then sheer panic when he realized he couldn’t move. Harry stepped out of the shadows and into the street light coming through the window, but before Dudley could scream for his parents, Harry _silencio_ ’d the bugger and stepped closer to his bed.

 

“You know, even though you tormented me our entire childhoods, I definitely think you have the potential to do better than your parents and perhaps not become trash like them. Which makes this all a bit harder to do, but it’s necessary. Just know, this isn’t personal, and this way, at least you won’t suffer.” Harry said regretfully before releasing his Izaki attributes.

 

Harry lifted his hand and pressed his thumb to Dudley’s neck, Harry angled his thumb down and his extended claw slipped straight into the main artery in the pudgy neck with little resistance. The light blue bed sheets turned black underneath Dudley and Harry stayed until it was over, not wanting Dudley to hear what he was going to do next.

 

Harry moved to the master bedroom and also cast the freezing charm on the two sleeping bodies. Harry pushed Petunia’s shoulder to the side so that they were both lying back on the bed, which effectively woke them both up and their eyes flitted around the darkened room wildly until they landed on Harry standing at the foot of their bed. Vernon strained against the charm uselessly, his face turning beet red from the effort and his throat making cut off garbled noises from not being able to use his mouth yet still controlling his vocal cords.

 

“Honestly, if given the time and availability, I would have locked you two in that cupboard downstairs and waited for you to starve to death for some sort of ironic justice. Since I have neither of those and can’t risk more than a night away from school, this will have to do.” Harry spoke nonchalantly, looking at the two on the bed like he’d merely ran into them at the post office and were having a pleasant chat.

 

“Don’t worry, Petunia, I made sure it was quick and rather painless for your son.” Petunia sobbed and tears trickled down from the corners of her eyes and disappeared in into her hairline, leave shiny wet tracks stretching out from her eyes. Vernon grunted and shouted in frustration as he remained pinned to the bed.

 

Harry pulled a glass vial out of a pocket in his robes and held it up to the bit of light coming in from the street lights outside. In the vial was a clear potion Harry had found and brewed himself a while back. He’d done it out of fun, not expecting to ever have use for it, until now.

 

The potion was mostly composed of the extract of an extremely poisonous and rare flower that caused excruciating pain for the victim. It was commonly referred to as ‘ _Liquid Cruciatus’_ , an Unforgivable in a bottle, and it was most certainly _just_ as illegal as casting the curse itself. With a bit of tweaking and infusion of Harry’s magic, Harry was able to modify the effects to make the potion far more painful, deadly, and longer lasting.

 

Harry approached Petunia first, pulling her mouth open and pouring a bit of potion into her mouth. The reaction was almost immediate. Her shrill screams filled the house and she jerked against the bindings of the spell. Vernon looked petrified when Harry moved to his side, eyes begging Harry for mercy. Harry glared down at his uncle, disgusted by the very sight of him.

 

“My mercy died in that cupboard the moment you tried to turn it into my tomb.” Harry spat and forced the excessive remaining amounts of potion down Vernon’s throat and soon his screams joined his wife’s. Harry watched them for a moment, bearing witness to their pain, before pointing a hand towards the carpet and silently setting the pristine white rug on fire.

 

As Harry made his way back down stairs, he set fire to anything that seemed able to light. Back downstairs, Harry met the vindicated gaze of Draco and the impressed look on Mal’s face as the screams rang through the house above Harry, still in the throes of the potion. Harry set fire to the rest of the first floor on his way out and the three watched from across the street, disillusioned again.

 

The lives inside had long since been snuffed out by the time the fire department arrived. When the street filled with trucks and sirens and police, Harry finally apparated away.

 


	6. Chapter Six: Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was posted kind of late guys! I got sick and have been vegetating on this chapter. Please enjoy!

 

Three Izaki returned to the castle that night. Not a word spoken between them. Spots still floating in their vision from staring at the unremarkable muggle home set ablaze. A great lantern of hellish light in the soundless night. As soon as they had returned to the school, Harry had mumbled something about going to see Snape and for them to go on without him, he’d see Draco back at the dorms. The two dominants stood as silent pillars in a stone corridor as their eyes trailed after the distracted brunette.

 

When Harry was out of sight, the blonde turned towards Mal with an expectant look on his face. Malphus quirked a brow in confusion, wondering what Draco could be waiting for. When it became clear to Draco that non-verbal hints were no more effective on Mal than they were on a brick wall, Draco heaved a sigh and motioned for Mal to follow him.

 

Draco led Mal through the halls and corridors to a small courtyard. The bitter cold air burned a path down into their lungs as they left the warm shelter of the castle. The cloudy vapor of their breaths pooled around them as they took a seat on a cold stone bench. Mal waited for Draco to tell him why he’d led Mal here, but he stayed silent for a while, a hard to read expression on his face.

 

The two of them never exactly got on. Sure, there was small talk here and there when Harry was distracted by something else, but Mal found himself a bit out of his element when it came to the stone-faced pureblood heir. At least with Harry, Mal could always seem to get a rise out of him and occasionally even make him laugh with his mischief. The only one who seemed to be able to pull off that intimidating mask of his was Harry. Not that Mal really minded, he found enough entertainment with Harry as it was.

 

“From the moment we arrived at that house, I could tell that all you’ve wanted to do is ask Harry a million questions. So, instead of burdening him with them, ask me and _perhaps_ I’ll give you an answer.” Draco finally broke the tense silence, making Mal’s shoulders sag in relief, only to tense up again when Draco mentioned his unbidden curiosity that he thought he’d been hiding pretty well until now.

 

Malphus blew out a forced breath before speaking. “Why did Harry let me go with you two? I could tell that you didn’t want me there, and after all of that, I can see why.” Draco cast him a hard gaze to tell him he was right about that last part. It wasn’t the biggest thing Mal wanted to know, but he figured he better ease into it a bit. Plus it _was_ something he was interested in knowing.

 

“He didn’t have much of a choice, now, did he? Explaining it to you would have taken time and he still isn’t ready to be so open about something with people he doesn’t know well enough. So convincing you to stay behind by telling the truth was not an option. It’s not like he could force you to stay put either, I’ve come to learn that you are _tenaciously nosey_. You would have found a way to follow us or track us down to see what we were doing. If not out of a need to quell your own curiosity, than out of your immense sense of self-preservation.” Draco gave Mal a pointed look that conveyed his distaste for such self-preservation when it didn’t mean protecting his mate, but admiration for the trait in general.

 

“Those people, they were . . . ?” Mal trailed off, having his own suspicions, but not wanting to assume until he heard it from Draco.

 

“His _relatives_.” Draco growled, glaring murder into the cool stone walls across the courtyard from them.

 

Malphus answered with his own low growl. Upon entering that house, he’d been able to draw a few conclusions for himself. The house smelt strongly of the family that lived there, but also of Harry. Not because the brunet had walked in front of him, no, the scent was older, more infused with the structures of the house. Though fainter than the other more unpleasant scents he picked up on. It was obvious that Harry had lived there at one point, but it smelt too faint to be for more than a few years.

 

Once Harry had disappeared somewhere upstairs, Draco had walked toward the kitchen. Mal wasn’t going to follow him, but when he saw Draco freeze in the hallway, he came up beside him to see what he’d found. Draco had been staring wide-eyed at a small half-door under the stairs. At first glance, the door would have looked like just another large panel that embellished the side of the stairs if it weren’t for the row of heavy-duty locks.

 

It didn’t fully register in Mal’s head what he was looking at, so he didn’t really hesitate to reach forward and pull the unlocked cupboard open and pull the short string that turned on the bare bulb that hung in the center of the cupboard. Mal’s nostrils flared when he got close to the room and his decades as an Izaki made it extremely easy to separate and determine each smell he got from the cupboard.

 

Sweat. . .

 

Fear. . .

 

_Blood. . ._

 

**_Harry. . ._ **

 

Mal’s eyes moved over the contents of the room with growing horror as things started to click together in his mind and he didn’t like where they were going. A flattened, threadbare mat that may have at one point been intended for a toddler to sleep on. A few mangled, burned, and broken toys sitting on the floor. Too many small brown spots on the floor that smelled like long-dried blood.

 

The worst part of all of it, though, was the scratches. Rows upon overlapping rows of scratches carved into the wooden door. They weren’t from sharp Izaki claws, but blunt little fingernails. In some of the scratches there was even dried blood. That place . . . _that_ is where it smelt the most like Harry. In that little cupboard, Mal knew that Harry _had_ spent almost his whole life here, it was just faint in other places because he _wasn’t allowed_ in those places where the rest of the family vegetated.

 

After several long minutes of standing there, screams filled the house from upstairs, pulling the two on the first floor out of their horrified dazes. Draco _accio_ -ed a camera into his hand and took several shots of the inside of the cupboard and of the door with its scratches and locks. When that was done, he vanished the camera and moved into the kitchen—which also smelt quite heavily of Harry. Draco stood beside the stove, his face a hard mask as he and Mal listened to the agonized screams of a man and a woman echo through the house and stop at the barriers of the privacy charm.

 

As if receiving some unspoken cue, Draco suddenly leapt into action. Draco turned all of the burners on, but blew out the pilot light first, causing only gas to pour out of the burners. Then both men moved to the front of the house, waiting to come down stairs with the stench of smoke trailing after him. They had only just made it to their previous spot across the street from the house when the windows blew out and fire engulfed the entire interior of the house. Revealing fiery tongues out of the windows to lick up the sides of the house.

 

“Those pictures you took, of the cupboard, why did you take them?” Mal asked, permeating the building silence that had formed between them as Mal relieved the night over in his head. A dark look crossed Draco’s face at the question, making Mal second guess this whole asking-whatever-he-wanted deal he had going on with Draco, but not making him retract his question now that it was out.

 

“Harry doesn’t want to think about it, but we both know that at some point this will all come to light. People will want proof of what those muggles did to Harry, and I don’t trust them to be content with only pensive memories and the . . . _physical evidence_ Harry still has to live with. Photo documentation on a magical camera cannot be tampered with like memories can. I wish I didn’t have to do it, it makes me physically ill thinking about putting Harry through something as awful as a trial, allowing everyone to see his pain, but it’s what Harry would want and need if the time comes.” Draco said with a distressed note in his tenor.

 

Mal nodded, he felt slightly uncomfortable with how open the usually stony man next to him was being. They talked for a while longer, mostly about Harry and what would need to be done in the future to help the young Izaki on his path.

 

When Mal had heard about Harry’s plans for helping all Izakis in and out of Terra di Morte, he was more than enthusiastic to jump on board with them and offer his full support and assistance. Though he couldn’t help but throw in something about Harry and Draco helping to find him a mate, to which Draco replied with a disparaging glance and a quick exit.

 

֎

 

As Harry approached the professor’s office, he paused beside the open door when he heard another familiar voice from within the room. Harry quickly cast a wordless disillusionment spell over himself and silently moved into the room. Harry skirted along the walls until he was standing behind the seated Severus, watching his former Head of House squirm uncomfortably under the intense gaze of Severus Snape.

 

“Severus, I just . . . I just find it implausible that our Headmaster would have _knowingly_ placed Mr. Potter in an abusive home! I assure you, there must be some mistake! I have known Albus for _many_ years now, and he just isn’t the type. If you would allow me to talk to Mr. Potter briefly, I think we can sort out this misunderstanding and reconcile. Harry has always looked up to Albus, seen him as a mentor, I just can’t see how this tiff came about!” McGonagall defended to Severus.

 

Harry had expected this reaction from her, he wasn’t angry or anything, he knew how deep Dumbledore’s manipulations could go. What he was watching for was _Severus’s_ reaction. Harry already partially trusted the man—that may or may not have a little something to do with the fact that he was Draco’s godfather and Draco was very close to the man—now he wanted to know how the professor conducted himself when not in Harry’s presence.

 

“Minerva, open your eyes! There is no possible way that Dumbledore _didn’t_ know what was going on! You know that every child must go through several diagnostic physical examinations at the start of every year to catch such things. Harry has always returned to Hogwarts with new scars, newly healed bones, and still fading bruises, there is no way Harry could have slipped through without notice, and even if it was inconclusive, there would still be a record of it in the archives, _but there isn’t!_

 

“I have asked Madam Pomfrey, but whenever I brought up the boy’s examinations, she gets confused and distracted, it is obvious that her mind has been meddled with. That is not something a mere child can do, no matter how prodigal.” Minerva’s sharp intake of breathe was her only response to the revelations. Harry raised a brow as well, he hadn’t known that Severus had done so much digging. Severus took a moment to reign in his anger and compose himself before continuing.

 

“Besides that, Harry has asked a multitude of times—in letter and in person—over the years for Dumbledore to place him in a new home. Harry has told Dumbledore _exactly_ what has been going on in that blasted house and every single time Dumbledore has turned it on the poor boy to make _him_ feel bad for wanting to leave. Can’t you see, Minerva? Dumbledore has turned Harry into a pawn in his own twisted little game! Do you not realize how _insane_ it is to put the fate of the entire wizarding world on the back of a _child?!_ He is but a boy and Dumbledore has already long since planned his death!” Severus slapped his hand on the table, making various paperweights, quills, and Minerva jump with the force behind it.

 

McGonagall floundered as she tried to produce speech with her tangled thoughts. Finally, she closed her thin lipped mouth and stood hesitantly.

 

“I will . . . think about what you have said Severus. It is not that I don’t believe you,” ‘ _Honestly, I really don’t believe a word you’ve said.’_ “But I need to look into things on my own, draw my own conclusions. This is just . . . _too much.”_ McGonagall didn’t say anything more and left Severus’s office, looking more stiff and haggard than usual.

 

Harry let his spells surrounding him melt off as he watched Severus bow forward and pinch the bridge of his nose with a tormented exhale. Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly and began sifting through the papers on his desk, having not noticed Harry standing only a couple of feet behind him.

 

“She won’t leave his side, you know.” Harry interrupted the silent busy work of the professor, causing said professor to nearly jump out of his skin. Snape glared at Harry on reflex, but when the younger man walked around his desk and Severus remembered their recent conversation pertaining to what he intended to do tonight, his expression softened by a few notches. Snape scoffed as Harry stretched out in the chair across from him, looking careless, yet nearly as relaxed or amused as Severus was used to, it tightened something in his chest.

 

“Of course she will! How can she ignore facts? Minerva is an intelligent woman and she will come to the same conclusions as I have.” Severus lifted his nose into the air in the traditional Slytherin fashion, but didn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

 

“That she is, but she’s also a Gryffindor and one of Dumbledore’s closest followers. She could ignore the apocalypse as long as Dumbledore told her it wasn’t happening. Loyalty and a history together—especially one as extensive as theirs—can easily overshadow reason. People like to believe that the ones they care about will never do them harm, and so it makes it ten times harder to change how they see that person in anything other than the best light. I have already counted her as someone we will not be able to win over when this war between the old goat and I comes to a head.” Harry said passively, as if it didn’t sting to know that his former Head of House wouldn’t be taking his side against his oppressor.

 

Severus knew differently, though. He knew that losing people he’d counted as true allies to the person who hurt him and tore his life to shreds was agonizing to the open-hearted boy, even if he didn’t let anyone see it.

 

“Are-. . . Are you okay?” Severus asked hesitantly. He was used to Draco’s whining during his early Hogwarts years, but that had always just been white noise to him before. With Harry, Severus genuinely wanted to keep track of Harry’s well being. Snape would never admit it out loud to _anyone_ , but he was starting to feel fiercely protective of the boy. It was ridiculous, he knew that Harry didn’t need protection from him, but there was just something about Harry—once you got to see the real him—that made everyone around him want to protect him from the world. Severus inwardly cringed at his own excessive sentimentality.

 

“I’m fine. The only thing I mourn over is the fact that I didn’t have more time to make them truly feel the extent of my wrath. But there are bigger, badder wolves in these woods that require my full, unbridled attention.” A wicked look flashed in Harry’s bright green glowing eyes, giving Severus a peak at the beast just below the surface. Then, not a moment later, it was gone, replaced by a child-like mischief.

 

“Have I told you yet that I’m attending Lucius’s birthday gala next Saturday?” Severus looked genuinely surprised by this, but the snake was ever quick to once again compose himself and give off the impression of indifference.

 

“I suppose you are aware then of the type of people who will be in attendance?” Snape asked hesitantly, as if imparting a particularly hard truth on Harry, which Harry thought was awfully amusing.

 

“Of course! I know that most of the families in attendance will likely be headed by Death Eaters. I have not been shying away from dark witches and wizards in the political world just because of their affiliations. I see this as a wonderful opportunity to network, while also presenting me and Draco as a couple on a more formal level than just rumors and scandal-driven newspapers.

 

“My war is not with some crazy snake-man who’s convinced he can take over the world one muggle-hater at a time. You’ve seen it yourself, Voldemort has been focusing his efforts on the Ministry as of lately. No more senseless muggle killings and slaughter of light-side innocents, he has put all of his efforts into tearing down the ministry to take wizarding Britain for himself. Honestly, I can’t say that I’m upset about seeing the ministry struggle so much with the Death Eater forces.” Harry shrugged flippantly, returning his attention to the slack-jawed Severus.

 

Before Severus regained himself, Harry said a short goodbye, with the promise that he would see Harry at the gala. When Harry returned to his room, Draco was on the plush black couch he’d transfigured from a plain chair. Draco didn’t look up from the book he was reading, but he did lift the book up off of his lap when Harry approached, predicting the brunet’s thoughts. Harry slipped out of his outer robes, pulled off his shoes, and shuffled over to the couch to lay down on his side with his head pillowed on Draco’s lap where the book had just vacated.

 

Draco didn’t say a word to Harry as he automatically moved one of his hands down to card through Harry’s hair. Harry realized that Draco wasn’t pressing him about his wellbeing because Draco could already _feel_ it. Harry let his heavy eyelids close shut, giving his mind over to the wonderful sensation of Draco’s fingers in his hair. A constant, soothing presence at his back. It only took moments for Harry slip into a deep sleep.

 

֎

 

The week following the weekend’s events was strangely pleasant. Sunday, Harry and Draco visited the grave of Harry’s parents, but after that, everything seemed to go quite well. Perhaps the universe had decided to give Harry a reprieve after recent unfortunate events. On Monday, Neville brought Harry down to the greenhouse to watch a very rare carnivorous flower bloom for the first time in a decade. It was one of those experiences that just have to be witnessed in person, otherwise the true magic of it was lost.

 

Then on Tuesday, Draco surprised Harry that morning by waking him up with soft kisses that eventually led to mutual . . . satisfaction. Later that evening, Harry spent a few hours in the library with Hermione and Luna. Harry had brought a few of the rare books he’d found in his family vaults for them to read. Which ended in Harry and Luna laughing themselves to tears when they shot a spell at Hermione before she could react. Hermione was rightfully miffed about the unexpected fluffy white tail and long white bunny ears she sprouted. If looks could kill, they’d need to scrape what was left of Harry and Luna off of the floor!

 

Wednesday, Harry skipped his classes for the day to take a little trip to Diagon Alley. Harry wanted to get new formal robes for the Gala on Saturday. Instead of going to Madam Malkin’s for his robes like he usually did, Harry went to an upscale wizarding tailor called _Twilfitt and Tattings_. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any nice formal robes, in fact, he had far too many! This was different, though. Harry had met Draco’s parents before this, but now he was meeting them as their son’s betrothed. Not to mention that every prominent pureblood family would be in attendance to this gala.

 

Upon entering the shop, Harry was immediately greeted by an auburn haired witch in fine green robes. She looked to be in her late thirties with a pleasant but blank expression on her face. Unlike what Harry was used to, Claradine—the woman standing before him who was the owner of the shop and chief tailor—had always displayed the utmost professionalism around Harry in the few times that he had come to her shop to have robes made for special occasions. They always chatted while she worked, but she didn’t push for details on his personal life, reformation of rumors from the papers, or share what he told her with anyone else. She was used to the needed confidentiality that came with her esteemed pureblood and other famous and prominent clients.

 

Claradine led Harry to the back room of the shop where she personally saw to the tailoring if the client was high profile enough. The rest of her employees were competent enough that customers didn’t feel at all insulted to be fitted by them instead. Harry had insisted on being fitted them his first time there, so as not to take up Claradine’s time with other customers, but she would never allow it. She politely explained to Harry later that, as chief tailor, to be dismissed for one of the lesser employees was an insult to her. When Harry had profusely apologized to her after that, she’d only laughed it off and told him to just not make the same mistake again. From then on, the two had been quite comfortable around each other.

 

“What are these going to be for?” Claradine asked as she looked through fabric swatches and compared them to Harry’s fair toned skin. It wasn’t a ploy to get information on him, she just needed to know the event in order to make the appropriate type of robes. She understood that although Harry was learning quickly, there were still quite a few customs that he didn’t know about yet and would need a little help in choosing the appropriate attire.

 

“A celebratory gala for my future father in-law’s birthday.” Harry answered as he stepped up onto the raised, cylindrical platform in front of a crescent of full length mirrors. Claradine didn’t even pause at the reveal. Sure, people knew that he and Draco were in a serious relationship, but they hadn’t made any official announcements about engagement.

 

Which is basically what they were at this point. A mating bond is lifelong and more permanent and deeper than marriage, but it’s not like they can go around telling everyone about their mating bond! So, to make their commitment to each other legitimized and recognized by the wizarding world, they would need to have a human wedding as well. There had been mentions of it between Harry and Draco, but they hadn’t had the discussion about dates and places and whatnot. They were planning on making their ‘engagement’ public at the gala when they socialized with the other attendees, presenting themselves as a betrothed couple. Thinking about the timeline of their relationship made Harry feel that they were moving too fast, but he was thinking in terms of human relationships, and he _wasn’t._ Wasn’t human, that is.

 

Claradine was holding up a swatch of dark green velvet to next to Harry’s cheek when Harry made a decision to clue Claradine in on what he’d been planning for a while yet. Harry smirked to himself as he imagined the stunned blonde’s face in his head when he would see Harry in his new robes.

 

“Claradine dear, I think it might also be important to mention that my betrothed has been rather . . . stubborn lately in denying me something that we both want. Do you think you could make sure that these robes make it especially hard for him to continue such pig-headedness?” Harry asked in a sugar sweet voice. Claradine met his eyes with a scandalous little grin on her face that told Harry she’d like nothing more.

 

Claradine immediately discarded the emerald velvet and instead pulled out a square of fabric from inside a drawer of her desk that he’d never seen her take anything out of. When she held it up next to Harry’s skin, he sucked in a sharp breath. It was some sort of silk, so dark it almost looked black in the dimmer light, but was in fact a deep blue that made Harry’s skin look delicate and glow softly in the light. When the fabric caught the light, it had a slight iridescent sheen to it. Harry wasn’t full of himself, but he could tell that whatever robes Claradine made from this fabric would look ethereal on him, as they probably would on anyone.

 

“Acrean Silk, spun from rare magical, nocturnal silkworms of Southeast Asia.” Harry mirrored Claradine’s wicked grin when he looked back up at her.

 

“This is perfect!” Harry declared excitedly.

 

Harry left the shop with his order already being in the process of being made, Claradine already had his measurements from previous visits, so the whole process went fairly quick. Harry didn’t need to stay and discuss designs or concepts with her, he trusted her to make him irresistible, simple as that.

 

It was still mid-morning when he left _Twilfitt and Tattings_ , so Harry decided to pop into a few more shops before returning to Hogwarts. Harry stopped by _Flourish and Blott’s_ for some more reading material, and then _Amanuensis Quills_ for a few more self-inking quills. After Harry ran out of errands to run, he simply strolled through the busy alley, ignoring the people parting like the red sea around him to stare and point and snap a quick picture if they could. Harry didn’t realize he had any sort of destination until he stopped in front of a familiar joke shop and found himself grinning. It had been ages since Harry had seen the twins and actually had enough time to talk to them.

 

Harry walked into the joke shop and was immediately spotted by both twins who were standing behind the counter along with another one of their employees.

 

“Harry!” They exclaimed in unison. Harry’s grin stretched even wider when he was approached by his two favorite pranksters. They both threw an arm over each shoulder—even though Harry was closer to their height because of the inheritance—and led him towards the back room of the shop where they tested and invented their pranks and fireworks and impressive defensive items.

 

“Blimey, Harry!—” George started as they entered the secluded room.

 

“—you’ve grown like a weed!” Fred finished, true twin speak in action.

 

“We’ve missed,--”

 

“—your adorable arse! When are you going to let us meet,—”

 

“—your devious blonde squeeze?” George finished with a raised brow and the chastising look of an overprotective parent. Harry rolled his eyes and sat on the extra stool Fred pulled up for him so that they all were sitting.

 

“I missed you guys too, you have no idea how much! I’ve been wanting to come visit you two for a while now, but . . . I wasn’t sure if you would still want me to come after all of the not-so-secretive meetings I’ve been having with suspected Death Eaters.” Harry’s tone made it sound more like a question than a statement, leaving the option of banishing him still open. Harry knew how the majority of the rest of the Weasley’s felt about his recent actions, but the twins were a different story, it was kind of hard to predict exactly where on the spectrum between light and dark that they fell.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” They said at the same time, though Fred was the one that continued. “The way we see it, what people do on their own time is their business! As long as they keep it focused on the ministry and away from our front door, we don’t care what they do in their free time.” Harry’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline at that blatantly _not-light-side_ proclamation, but Fred just winked at him while George nodded in agreement.

 

“As long as their bottomless pockets keep coming through our door, we don’t judge.” George added with a devilish grin, his brother mirrored his grin perfectly without even looking at George. Perhaps the twins _did_ have a little bit of dark in them!

 

“So! When are you going to bring little Drakey home to mum and dad?!” Fred jumped back onto the previous topic, pointing to him and George when he said ‘mum and dad’. Harry couldn’t help but bust out laughing at the mental image of George with a thick dad-stash and Fred in a flowery dress and apron, both scowling fiercely at an unprepared Draco. Harry would give up all of the money in his vaults right then to witness such a glorious sight!

 

Harry wiped the bit of moisture from the corner of his eyes as he smirked devilishly at the twins. Already having a wonderful plan forming in his head.

 

“Very soon. In fact, I will be attending an event this weekend that I think would be a great business venture for the both of you. You could find many possible investors there, and of course, Draco will also be in attendance. I will send an owl with the rest of the information. You don’t have to go, but I would really appreciate it, and I think you will both really enjoy yourselves!” The twins looked excited at the prospect, which was a good sign.

 

Harry left the shop with a small bag of goodies that Fred and George had practically forced on him and kicked him out the door before he could demand they take his money to pay for the not-so-inexpensive gifts he’d spotted inside the bag at first glance. After that, Harry returned to Hogwarts, feeling content with how he’d spent his day. Of course, after sending a quick owl out and waiting only an hour before receiving a reply, Harry brought up what he’d talked to the twins about to Draco.

 

“No.” Draco deadpanned. His glare potent enough to cause the hairs to raise on the back of Harry’s neck and on his arms. Though, the reason for that reaction was not what Draco had intended.

 

“ _Draco,_ they _will_ be coming to the gala whether you like it or not! I’ve already spoken to Lucius and he thinks it is a splendid idea. Fred and George are young entrepreneurs with a fast growing business with still very few investors. They have already cornered the market in their wide range of products, not to mention that they hold no light or dark affiliations. From the few that I have already sat down and talked with that will be attending the gala, many— _including your father—_ have expressed interest in talking to the young wizards in the hopes of investing while their business is still so localized. Your father said he would have already sent them an invitation earlier if he’d thought that there was a chance that they would actually come to such an event. You have no reasonable argument against why they should come!” Harry snipped every rebuttal Draco may have been forming in his head right in the bud.

 

Eventually, Harry got his way and he promptly sent an official invitation to the twins that Lucius had sent along with his reply. Harry wouldn’t ever tell Draco, but he’d waited to send out the invitation because Harry knew that if Draco _truly_ had a problem with the twins attending the gala, Harry wouldn’t invite them. Luckily for Harry, Draco would rather see him happy then care what others might think about the red headed devils showing up at his father’s birthday party.

 

֎

 

Harry’s formal robes didn’t arrive until Saturday morning and he couldn’t open the box until it was time to get ready, since he didn’t want Draco to see them until they were on him. So Harry kept the shrunken box in his pocket the entire day until the both of them flooed to Malfoy Manor at five o’clock in the evening. They weren’t received by anyone because they weren’t making a formal entrance and the lord and lady of the manor were getting ready at that moment as well.

 

Draco led Harry up to the second floor and to a set of rooms that smelled so wonderfully like Draco. Harry nearly purred in delight, but didn’t let himself get distracted for long, considering that he had to get ready quickly so that they wouldn’t end up late. Harry could feel Draco about to pounce on him now that he finally had the shorter brunet in his rooms, _alone._ Harry slipped right past his reaching hand to head straight for the bathroom, glad that Draco couldn’t see the devious smirk on his face and realize that Harry would be avoiding his intimate touches all night with a purpose.

 

Harry knew the effect he would have on Draco when he next left the bathroom, but he would stay inaccessible to the blonde all night to drive Draco crazy and hopefully provoke his lover into actually allowing things to go further for once. The past few days that certain ache had really gone up from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘all-consuming’. It was hard to concentrate on anything else and Harry felt wearier every passing day.

 

Inside Draco’s bathroom, Harry quickly locked the door when he heard Draco begin to move around in the room beyond, getting ready himself. Harry pulled the shrunken box out of his pocket and resized it, setting it on the bathroom counter. Harry lifted the lid and was once again captivated by the beautiful garment pooled in the decorative box.

 

Harry elatedly stripped down to nothing but his tight black pants and grabbed what looked like the top of a pair of trousers made of the Acrean Silk out of the box. Harry slipped the trousers on with ease and felt almost weak-kneed at the delightful feeling of the rare silk against his skin. They were a perfect skin-tight fit, of course, but they felt like they were not even there, save for the occasional feather-light caress when Harry shifted.

 

Harry put on the rest of his formal robes and could hardly keep himself from running his fingers over the strange fabric that felt like cool water over his body. When Harry looked in the mirror and took in the full ensemble, he knew that from then on, he would _only_ be going to Claradine for all of his robes. The cut was impeccable, the fabric hugged his skin in the most flattering ways, and the design was gorgeous! The material moved around him like a living being whenever he moved and caught the light in the perfect way to show off the exquisite quality fabric and the fine, intricate silver embroidery. To finish it off, Harry pulled on a pair of matching dragon hide boots. The intensely dark color of the robes contrasted with Harry’s pale green eyes that made them look like they were glowing even in his human form.

 

When Harry finally left the bathroom—purposefully close to the start of the gala so that Draco wouldn’t have the time to pull him in and snog the life out of him before they went down and Harry met his future in-laws—he was thrilled to see Draco immediately froze and anything he was about to say shriveled up and turned to dust on his tongue as he hungrily drank in the sight of his lover. Harry ran a subtle hand down the front of his body in a show of smoothing down the impeccable robes that displayed his agile, supple body in such a way that filled Draco’s head with a euphoric, drunk fog. The only thing that came through the fog was the need to get his hands on Harry—more accurately, _all over_ Harry!

 

While Harry let his beloved soak in his appearance smugly, letting his arousal build, Harry took that time to take in Draco’s formal robes as well. Pristine black robes with the Malfoy crest over the left breast. The tailored robes showed off Draco broad, sturdy shoulders and hard, fit physique, but perfectly hid Draco’s growing arousal from anyone who looked at him. Before Harry could get as worked up as Draco, he mentally shook his head to clear his mind and cleared his throat.

 

“Most of the guests have probably arrived by now, we should go down and find your parents.” Harry supplied, pulling Draco out of his daze—for the most part—enough at least to get a nod from the blonde and the unashamed roaming eyes to be a bit more discrete for when they were in public.

 

As they left the rooms, Draco’s arm curled around Harry’s waist and pulled him in close enough to press him against his side possessively and press his mouth against the gentle curve where Harry’s neck met his shoulder. Draco inhaled deeply and the hot exhale of breath that ghosted under the collar of Harry’s robes and over his bare skin sent shivers down his back. There was a smug rumble in Draco chest that made Harry huff and pull back to curl a single hand around Draco’s bicep as they walked to the stairs that would bring them back to the first floor. Harry would be damned if he gave Draco enough physical contact to be able to tide him over for however longer Draco thought he could string this whole ‘courting’ thing out for.

 

He could tell that Draco wanted to protest about the minimal physical contact between them, but they quickly happened upon the large arching entrance to the ballroom already filled with people in ridiculously expensive robes and gowns, sipping on champagne that cost more than some people’s rent and nibbling on gourmet finger food served on silver platters by silent, professional servers.

 

Harry stood tall and proud next to Draco as heads turned toward them and conversations became more hushed and urgent, as if nobody really believed what was being printed in the papers lately about the boy-who-lived and the apparent Death Eater. Harry wasn’t that surprised, most of the people in attendance knew that half of the shite in the paper was absolute bollocks.

 

Harry was glad that he didn’t have to worry about who they would talk to first, since their relationship with the host of the gala meant that they would meet with Lucius and Narcissa first before anyone. Once the pair was spotted, Draco and Harry made their way over to Draco’s parents, who were surrounded by people and couples known to have a fairly close relationship with either Lucius or Narcissa. Draco smiled brightly at his mother after being released from her crushing embrace and gave a respectful nod towards his father. Seeing that this was more of a private family moment, the others that had gathered around Lucius and Narcissa broke away to socialize with others, giving the four a bit of privacy.

 

“Oh Draco, darling, it is so wonderful to have you back home.” Narcissa turned her surprisingly warm brown eyes on Harry and her smile brightened even more. Narcissa stepped closer to Harry and took both of his hands in hers. “We have both been awaiting the moment when Draco would finally introduce us. The way he talks about you . . . anything that can earn so much of my dear Draco’s love and devotion, is something that I consider precious and close to my heart as well.” Her words caused a bright red blush to bloom on Harry’s cheeks and he had to duck his head slightly in embarrassment, though he knew Draco caught his full reaction by the pleased grin that overtook his face.

 

“Yes, I have been wanting to meet with you even before I received word of your relationship with our son. I will have to pull you away at some point so that we can talk more about your current and future movements.” Lucius added in, looking ever the poised patriarch of the Malfoy family with his calculative domineering gaze. Harry certainly felt please at the invitation, not at all fazed by the older Malfoy’s cold manner.

 

“I would like nothing more.” Harry replied in a dignified tone.

 

Harry and Draco didn’t talk to them for long, as they knew that they would be having a private breakfast together the following morning, so they would have time to talk more soon. Although the gala was in celebration of Lucius’s birthday, most of the attention was on Draco and Harry. The pair went from group to group, introducing themselves, catching up, talking politics, and then someone would inevitably bring up what they’d read in the papers about the pair and would wait for either confirmation to the rumor or denial. Harry found it equal parts amusing and annoying how desperate some of the patrons were to get a bit of dirt on Harry.

 

Eventually Harry needed a break from constant drabble and left Draco to what came naturally to him and found a relatively empty space of wall to lean against after he found himself a flute of champagne.

 

“You’re going to need something _a lot_ stronger than that if you have any hope of getting drunk.” Mal leaned against the wall next to Harry with an amused smirk on his face. Mal was another ‘plus one’ Harry had invited to the gala to hopefully liven it up a bit. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Harry, but we are unable to get royally pissed on human alcohol.”

 

“That is a theory I’d be willing to test right about now.” Harry countered with tipping back his glass to let the tingling bubbles slide down his throat. Once Mal had cleaned up a bit, it was actually fairly easy to pass him off as the heir of a foreign line that nobody had heard of. He blended seamlessly into the background here, in his fine—but not too fine—blood red robes and the top half of his hair tied back with a scarlet band without any of his usual braids.

 

Apparently Harry looked like he needed company a lot more than he’d thought, because before Mal could even respond, there were two grinning redheads standing before him. Harry felt infinitely better having all three of his trouble makers around him—though it would have been better if he had Draco with him as well.

 

“Your Draco better be prepared for the scolding of a lifetime!” Fred huffed and crossed his arms with a sneer that would have made Harry proud if he weren’t now worried about what Draco could have possibly done to anger the twins. That is, until George spoke up with an identical expression.

 

“Leaving his pretty fiancé to fend for himself amongst these _wolves!”_ George flashed him his straight white teeth in not-quite-a-smile, as if to say _he_ was one of those ‘wolves’. Harry rolled his eyes. Harry was about to tell George off about how ‘defenseless’ he really was, when he glanced at Mal and was surprised by the look he saw on the elder Izaki’s face.

 

Mal’s eyes were solely trained on Fred, studying him in a way that reminded Harry of how a predator studied its prey with fascination before devouring it. Harry wasn’t really worried, especially since Fred didn’t look worried either. Also, that look reminded him, vaguely, of the looks he’d received from Draco before they’d pursued the mating bond. If, at any point, Fred looked uncomfortable by the attention, Harry would of course shut it down right then and there, but for now, he would just sit back and enjoy the show!

 

“Fred, George, this is Malphus, but he goes by Mal. Mal, these are two of my close friends, Fred and George.” Harry introduced them, pointing out which one was Fred and which was George. Harry could only tell the difference between them because of the faintest difference in their voices. Before puberty it was impossible, and Harry could only tell the difference now because he had been there for the slight changes when they happened. It would be fun to see if Mal could keep up with who was who. Fred and George still liked to switch on people, messing with their friends’ and family’s heads.

 

Not wanting to intrude what could develop into _something_ , Harry discretely slipped away from the group. Not feeling quite ready to go back to his fiancé yet, Harry found the long table on the other side of the ballroom that was filled with food and desserts. Since everyone else was so busy socializing and trying to wiggle their way into the higher circles of society, the table was practically untouched. Harry stared greedily down at a four tier platter set up piled with little cakes and dessert rolls and fudge. Harry’s sweet tooth was really kicking and he was just about to pluck a perfect little white chocolate covered cake square from the edge of the platter when he felt a presence close behind him.

 

“It should be a _sin_ to allow you to saunter around like you own this place _looking like that._ ” A voice said next to his ear as a hand grabbed his hip roughly. Harry whipped around and elbowed the man in the chest hard enough to force him back a step and knock the wind right out of him. Harry recognized him as one of the younger, wealthy aristocrats he and Draco had talked to briefly before. Harry had thought he had a kind face before, but now, as said face glowered up at him from where he was bent forward slightly with a hand clutching his chest, he looked disgusting to Harry. Once pleasant features twisted and wrinkled with rage as he stood back up to his full height, standing a few inches taller than Harry.

 

“How _dare_ you! What, you’ll give it up for the blonde traitor but not _me?_ ” He bellowed, drawing the attention of the other attendees. Harry saw the flash of a blonde head moving through the crowd, but aside from that, nobody moved to step in.

 

“It won’t matter even if you do choose Malfoy and run away together, the Dark Lord is coming for him, he won’t last long now that he’s betrayed his lord. You should be with someone who can actually protect you! I mean, who else would take you in? You’re just a filthy light-side _whore!”_ The last word was accompanied by the hard back of a hand across Harry’s cheek, as if to prove that Harry was so weak that he could do whatever he wanted without consequence.

 

It wasn’t until that moment that Harry really understood the expression ‘seeing red’. It didn’t mean that the world around him had suddenly turned red with his fury, no, it meant that all Harry could think about was painting the world in this man’s blood, therefore _making_ it red.

 

 _“Crucio!”_ Harry had his prop wand pointed at the man in front of him before he could react. The man crumpled to the ground immediately and screamed for all he was worth. The raw power behind that one curse was enough to put even Voldemort’s punishing _crucio’s_ to shame. Harry sent another curse his way and the man’s—whose name Harry didn’t even know—back bow up off of the ground, his scream had so much force behind it that it eventually broke off as Harry imagined the man’s vocal cords tearing from the strain.

 

When Harry finally released the man from the curse, not wanting him to lose his sanity right then, he kicked at the floor with his designer shoes in order to push himself away from Harry by a few feet, but the unmoving crowd behind him didn’t let him get any farther than that, an unyielding wall of shock-frozen bodies. Harry scanned the crowd until he found the silver eyes he was looking for. Draco gave Harry the slightest nod. Harry knew what it meant, it meant permission. Permission to rid the gala of the unsightly pest and to make a point to everyone else who was watching silently, too stunned to think about what they’d just seen; the Golden Boy using an unforgivable on one of their own.

 

“I can take care of myself quite well, as you can see.” Harry swept his arms out around him and was thoroughly satisfied when the nameless man below him flinched. Harry then addressed the rest of the gathering crowd.

 

“I think I should clear this up for all of you right here and now. Do not spew your ‘Dark Lord’ propaganda around me. Do not try to _use_ me for your war. _Do not_ insult me or my fiancé or I promise it won’t end well for you. I am not aligned with either side of this ridiculous war. My enemies are my own, and only those that are directly in my way will need to fear me, I no longer blindly accept who I am told is my enemy as the one I should fight against. If you underestimate me again, it will not be nearly as quick and painless.” Harry caught the briefest flashes of confusion on some of the faces around him before he pointed his wand at the man still cowering on the ground before him.

 

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ The green light exploded from the tip of his wand and slammed into the man’s chest, instantly killing him. Harry felt no guilt for killing him. It was obvious from the way he’d spoken to and treated Harry that he was a truly vile creature that had experience with mistreating those he saw as below him. He had absolutely no regard for what Harry’s opinion was and saw him as just an object for him to take whenever he pleased. If he was able to make a point to everyone else in the process of getting rid of such scum, then who could really blame him for taking advantage.

 

It’s not like any of them were jumping at the chance to save him from the man’s obviously unwanted advances. Harry could tell that a few of those closest to him were thinking the same thing considering their heads were ducked and they were fidgeting nervously, avoiding Harry’s gaze. Draco was in front of Harry then, slipping an arm around his waist to pull him firmly against Draco and the other hand grasped the back of Harry’s head soothingly.

 

Harry held tightly to the front of Draco’s robes and watched over the blonde’s shoulder as Lucius stepped out of the crowd, glaring down at the limp body on the ground. For a moment, Harry was worried that Lucius would be angry with him for making such a scene at his party, but his worries were quickly dashed when Lucius vanished the body with a disgusted look twisting his face and when he met Harry’s eyes over Draco’s shoulder, the only thing that came through Lucius’s cold mask was pure pride for his future son in-law.

 

After that, the celebration continued with a slightly more tense air, though some were still able to let loose and fully enjoy the festivities. Namely, those with red hair, along with a tall blonde who was practically drooling over a certain redhead. Draco never let go of Harry either. He kept one arm wrapped around his back, holding him against his side and narrowed his eyes at anyone who got too close to Harry, which Harry found adorable. Even after the dangerous display Harry had made earlier, people seemed to be more scared of Draco’s menacing pointed looks than Harry himself. Though, he couldn’t blame them, Draco was quite ominous when he wanted to be.

 

After most of the guests had left, they said their goodbyes to Lucius and Narcissa before going back up to Draco’s rooms. Harry’s heart thudded with twice as much force in his chest as he entered Draco’s bed room, producing a slow mesmerizing rhythm behind his ears. The only light in the room came from a small lamp on the bedside table, casting the large room in a soft dim glow. Harry turned when he was a few feet from the foot of the bed. Draco had closed the door behind him and was just standing there, leaning against the dark wood with half lidded eyes following Harry’s every movement.

 

Harry never took his eyes off of Draco as he slipped out of his outer robe, letting it fall somewhere at his feet. He then toed off his boots, kicking them aside. He slid his trousers and pants off in one smooth motion, losing sight of Draco only briefly. When Harry straightened back up, Draco had moved forward a few steps, like he couldn’t help himself, but he still didn’t close the distance. Harry knew what he was waiting for, he wanted Harry to go to him, to give his full, unconditional consent.

 

Standing there, skin bared for only Draco to see, he let him see all that Harry was. Harry waited until molten silver eyes met his sharp light green to finally move. Harry took slow, assured steps. All of his nerves ran out through his feet with each step, Harry was sure that if he looked back he’d see them still there, engraved into the cold stone floors where his soles had kissed its surface. He didn’t stop until he stood before his lover, both hands lifting to slip under the opened outer robe to slide it off of the wide expanse of his shoulders. The touch was so light that Harry could have sworn he felt each individual thread that grazed the sensitive skin of his fingertips. When the outer robe crumpled on the ground, Harry moved to Draco’s shirt and began unbuttoning each pearlescent button.

 

Draco didn’t make any move to help him, just watched with a beautiful intensity as Harry methodically undressed him. When the black shirt was gone, Harry spread his hands out over Draco’s smooth skin—one hand right over Draco’s heart, and the other on his toned stomach. He reveled in the humanity of the flesh under his hands. So much power, yet . . . under his palm was a rapidly beating heart and skin that he could easily cut through to stop its beating. But Draco knew he wouldn’t, he _trusted_ him with his life in his hands. Harry moved his hands up over Draco’s shoulders, and back down his arms. He then took one of Draco’s hands and pulled him gently towards the bed.

 

When they reached the huge black bed, Harry let go of his hand and crawled cat-like onto the plush surface until he figured he was far enough and turned over, spreading out just as Draco encased him with his body. The rest of his clothes were gone and the warmth pouring off of his bare form enveloped Harry in a most pleasurable way. Harry’s mouth was hastily captured and ravished by Draco’s tongue, eliciting an amorous moan from Harry. Hands explored his body and he clenched a fist in Draco’s delightfully soft blonde hair.

 

Draco’s mouth skidded over Harry’s jaw and down across his neck, pausing briefly to swipe his tongue over the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder. As Draco’s swollen lips made their descent, Harry felt his body come alive with little bursts of magic over his skin, his Izaki keening inside him at finally being allowed to get so close to Draco. A hot, wet tongue licked and coaxed Harry from half, to full hardness. Body trembling and cock leaking by the time two large hands gently pushed his thighs apart and up. Harry blindly grasped his thighs, holding himself open and exposed.

 

Hot breath bloomed against his entrance.

 

He breathed in. Breathed out.

 

The lightest kiss to the back of his thigh.

 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

 

His tongue pressed close and drew circles on his quivering hole.

 

Breathe in.

 

He pressed inside.

 

Sparks exploded out of the lamp but the room stayed lit.

 

Stars danced across Harry’s skin.

 

His tongue delved deeper.

 

Breathe out.

 

Harry mewled, letting Draco know through the forming bond between them how very much he was enjoying this and how much he needed _more._ Draco answered with a slick finger slowly pushing in as his tongue moved to tease and relax his opening. Harry swallowed his finger up without a problem, though it was a strange feeling, he wanted more, needed more than those amazing fingers, but Draco was adamant about preparing him properly. When a second finger was added, Harry felt the slight ache of being stretched for the first time. Those wonderful infuriating fingers twisted and opened Harry up rather quickly. By the third finger, Harry was eagerly pushing back on those fingers, needing more. Needing _Draco_.

 

Draco pulled his fingers out and Harry emitted a high pitched whine at the abrupt empty feeling. Draco cut off his whine by pressing his lips gently to Harry’s and lovingly running his fingers through his hair. When Harry had calmed down enough to think clearly, Draco pulled back far enough to look at him, though he continued to sweep his thumb over Harry’s cheek affectionately.

 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Draco asked slowly and deliberately, need the full consent of his lover. Harry smiled at how much Draco truly cared for him. Draco would _never_ do anything to hurt Harry and he made sure Harry knew that every chance he got. Harry turned his face slightly to press a kiss into the center of Draco’s palm.

 

“Yes, I’ve been sure about this for quite a while.” Harry laughed at the eye roll Draco gave him for his exasperated tone. Harry lifted his head off of the bed to press a sweet but short kiss to Draco’s lips. “I love you.” He breathed against his lips as he pulled back. Draco grasped the back of Harry’s neck, aligned himself with Harry’s entrance, and slowly pushed in. Draco kept his eyes focused on Harry’s face looking for any sort of indication to stop, but Harry wouldn’t allow him even if he tried.

 

The light in the room flared up a sputtered along with Harry’s breaths. Harry gripped the sheets and Draco’s hair as he was slowly filled with all of Draco. Harry could tell that Draco was struggling to stay in control as he held still to allow Harry to adjust to the wide stretch. His head was bowed slightly and he was panting against Harry’s shoulder. As the burning feeling subsided Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders so that instead of gripping the sheets, he was only holding on to Draco. Pleasure began to ripple through Harry and he tightened around Draco to get him to move. Draco choked a gasp and automatically pulled back only to thrust back in sharply.

 

Draco set a slow, impassioned pace that had Harry making needy little noises and blushing wildly. Draco brought his legs up higher so that he could balance his weight better while lifting Harry’s up off of the bed. When Draco pushed back in, euphoria burst inside Harry at a certain wonderful bundle of nerves, making Harry arch and cry out breathlessly. Draco sped up his pace a bit and kept gliding against that spot, causing Harry to cling to Draco so tightly that his arms began to tremble with the effort, but he wouldn’t dare let go. Flashes of white hot bliss spread through every vein, every artery, and every capillary in Harry’s body as Draco’s thrusts became more urgent, his wrecked breathless moans against Harry’s ear sending shivers down his spine.

 

Harry wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither was Draco. Harry brushed his lips over Draco’s shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin. Harry, lost to the sensations colliding inside of him, barely registered his not-so-blunt teeth gently scraping against the raised muscle between Draco’s neck and shoulder pulling a strangled gasp from his lover. Harry’s orgasm built steadily and when the submergence of euphoria bloomed inside of him, Harry bit down hard. Sharp teeth easily bypassed soft flesh and burrowed deep into the muscle. Blood slipped passed his teeth and trickled down Harry’s throat like the sweetest wine. Draco gave two more hard thrusts before his own teeth sunk into the juncture of his neck that he’d licked earlier, as if marking the spot for later.

 

When the last overwhelming flashes of Harry’s orgasm receded, he carefully pulled his teeth from the ring of deep teeth marks, so as not to cause any further damage. Draco copied Harry’s actions and fell on his side next to him. Drowsy, sated, and a little sore the two lovers wrapped around each other and fell into a deep sleep.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I don't know how many of you will see this, but from now on into the foreseeable future, I will be posting a new chapter every Other Sunday because with how long the chapters are, it hasn't been easy getting each chapter posted on time. Hopefully this will allow me to turn out longer and more quality chapters for you guys. Thank you for reading this far and if I get to a point where I can update every week, I will definitely tell you! Look for chapter seven next Sunday on the 24th!


	7. Chapter Seven: Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTICE/: Sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter and for it being a bit shorter than usual! I've been thinking about it for a while and I think that for how long I'm trying to make each chapter, posting a new chapter weekly isn't working out very well with how busy my life is right now. I think it would be best if I posted every other Sunday instead, giving myself more time to write while keeping up on my work. Ultimately, this is what I think I will do, but if you have any other suggestions--like posting shorter chapters every week--then leave it in the comments below.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and shout out to my amazing beta, LadyX, with the patience of a saint for putting up with a procrastinator like me! Please give her a little love for all that she's done for us! Enjoy the chapter and feel free to tell me what you think of the story so far.

 

Harry’s body grudgingly pulled itself out of sleep, and the moment he broke the surface of consciousness, he couldn’t find the will to move. It wasn’t that Harry was exhausted or in pain, quite the opposite actually. He felt so warm and comfortable, Harry wasn’t sure if he’s ever felt so comfortable in his  _ life _ . Resting on a bed that was so soft and pliant it made him feel weightless. Surrounded by a soft, fluffy duvet just warm enough to fill his head with the same down feathers that it contained. The best part of it all, though, was the person next to him.

 

Harry awoke with his head pillowed on the shoulder of his mate. Harry lie there for quite a while, fully awake and lightly trailing his fingertips over the features of his face or drawing invisible pictures on his bare skin. Harry felt his face pull into a smile as Draco shifted slightly and blinked his eyes a couple of times, shuttering flashes of silver shone in the early morning light. Draco grumbled something under his breath and turned onto his side to pull Harry full against him and press his face into the soft skin of his neck.

 

Harry could feel Draco falling back asleep the moment he settled into that position and he laughed softly next to his ear. “Get your lazy arse up. We have to go to breakfast with your parents, then we’re going back to Hogwarts and making sure that Mal didn’t kidnap Fred and take him hostage.” Harry remembered seeing Mal ducking out right as the twins were leaving in order to do the ‘gentlemanly’ thing and escort them home. He doubted that anything had happened, especially on George’s watch, but that doesn’t mean Mal hadn’t tried.

 

Draco grumbled again when Harry extricated himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets. He jumped out of bed, only barely escaping the arm that swiped out to try to catching him and haul him back into bed. As Harry passed Draco on his way to the bathroom, he couldn’t resist smacking a perfect pale cheek not covered by the duvet, followed by a deep growl muffled by a pillow. Harry snickered all the way into the bathroom, where he left the door cracked open and turned on the shower.

 

Under the hot spray, Harry’s mind wandered lazily through the night’s events. It hadn’t gone as planned, but there was nothing he could do about that now and it wasn’t really his fault anyways. After the incident the night before with the man—Lucius had told him was named Jedry—Harry had been told by several patrons that Jedry was a low ranking Death Eater with a sense of self-entitlement bigger than the forbidden forest. There were stories of him doing unspeakable things to young—and even underage—men who didn’t have the power to refuse him. Any sort of partial guilt Harry may have felt for ending his life so quickly was quickly dismantled after hearing that.

 

It was strange to think about, Harry probably would have never killed someone so quickly before. Even after finding out what he had, before his inheritance, just the thought of taking another life made him feel queasy. Now, though, it was different. Sure, knowing that someone will rot their lives away in Azkaban is more satisfying than ending their lives, but in some cases there are just too many variables.

 

You don’t know if there’ll be enough proof to send them to Azkaban, or if their lawyers will be able to bribe and evade their way out of the charges, or even if they  _ do _ go to Azkaban, whether they’ll just escape. These people have spent so much time and effort turning Harry’s life into a game, forcing Harry to play it as if it  _ were _ a game and if Harry doesn’t take their pieces off of the table completely, they will eventually be put to use and do far more damage than Harry can afford. Jedry may have seemed like a useless piece to get rid of, but more than that, he was a message to the rest of Voldemort’s lackeys.

 

Harry is not the same innocent little Golden Boy that shied away from Voldemort’s wrath in the past. He won’t be Dumbledore’s blade and shield against him anymore and he will not tolerate Voldemort attacking those close to him and not expect any sort of backlash.

 

Harry stepped out of the shower and into a fluffy bathrobe just as Draco entered the bathroom. His face lit up instantly at the sight of his ruffled blonde lover stretching his arms over his head with half-lidded eyes and a sleepy grin on his face. It never ceased to amuse Harry how disheveled the usually immaculate Draco became in his sleep. Harry had sort of always thought that his perfectly combed hair stayed like that always, like a curse. But just like any other person, Draco woke up ungracefully, hair bent and disarrayed, sleep lines striping his cheeks, morning breath that could wilt flowers, and as disoriented and grumpy as a cat who’d been tossed into a bucket of water. Harry found every aspect of Draco in the morning only made him more attractive. It was honest, unconcerned, and something Harry suspected to only have been shown to him.

 

Draco leaned in to plant a kiss on Harry’s cheek before deciding better of it and moving to converge on his mouth. Harry let himself savor the kiss for a few moments more, before pulling back and giving Draco a raised brow sort of disapproving look. Harry wished he could jump back into the still warm bed with Draco and explore their newly formed bond in the most delectable ways until the end of the weekend, but they had responsibilities.

 

As much as Harry loved to succumb to all of his dark desires with Draco, he still had to play the part of human around other humans. Even if said humans already know about his big secret, it isn’t going to get him anywhere by giving in to every instinct inside of him from his non-human side. If he did that, he and Draco would be caught and shipped off to Terra di Morte in an instant! If you never let your guard down around others, there’s little chance of being caught.

 

“We must go down for breakfast with your parents soon, they’ll be expecting us,” he reminded Draco, leaving the bathroom to get dressed before Draco could convince him to do otherwise. Draco could be . . . very  _ persuasive _ when he wanted to be.

 

֎

 

Once down in the manor dining room, Harry and Draco sat next to each other at the long richly dark wooden table where Lucius and Narcissa were already sat, drinking their tea. Lucius sat at the head of the table, stiff and severe as ever, while Narcissa was at his right, across from them. As to be expected with any pureblood family sharing a meal, the ordeal started with an air of tense formality. Harry didn’t take it personally, since he knew that the small smile Narcissa flashed them when spying the matching rosy rings of teeth marks peeking out of their collars and the approving look Lucius briefly allotted his son.

 

“I hear that you’ve been quite busy this last summer,” Lucius abruptly spoke, drawing a narrowed look from Narcissa and a curious but cautious look from Draco.

 

“Lucius dear, I hardly think that breakfast is the appropriate time to be discussing such things,” Narcissa warned ominously. “Also, I don’t think that what Harry wants to talk about first thing in the morning is politics.” Narcissa hesitated on Harry’s name, glancing at him with an uncertain expression, as if not sure about how he would feel about her using his first name. In response, Harry beamed.

 

“On the contrary! I was actually hoping I would get the opportunity to talk to Lucius about a couple of things I’ve been working on, perhaps get a little advice as well,” Harry interjected, thrilled that the subject had been brought up on its own without him having to try and attempt to do it himself.

 

With the mating bond completed, Draco could feel every flicker of excitement and anxiousness that filled his mate, just as he knew that Harry was getting a continuous stream of his own emotions.

 

“Well then, perhaps after breakfast I can pull you aside for a moment and we can talk more about your debut into the world of politics. I’ve heard from a few of my associates that you are vying for magical creature rights. Since most of the magical creature population has been labeled as dark in the Ministry’s tyranny, they will side with and support dark wizards more easily than the light. As well as the other way around, dark wizards will be more willing to advocate for dark creature rights if only to aggravate the light. No matter your personal preferences for light or dark, targeting dark wizards for your movement was a very smart choice on your part,” Lucius commended with the slight nod of his head.

 

The rest of breakfast went on in a light, pleasant mood. The topics stayed light, except for Narcissa’s insistence on knowing every little detail about Harry that wasn’t already common knowledge. It was strange for Harry to acclimate to the polite and even welcoming demeanor of the Malfoys away from the public’s eye. They weren’t as casual and personable as how Harry remembered the Weasley’s being his first few years of Hogwarts, before every visit to the Burrow became an awkward and light-side politically charged endeavor.

 

To be fair, perhaps Molly and Arthur didn’t realize exactly what they were doing, perhaps they really were just following Dumbledore’s every order because they trusted him that much. That doesn’t change that they are still his tools to manipulate Harry. The moment Harry realized that his best interests were not exactly what they had in mind, he kept his guard up around the rest of the Weasley’s, even if he wasn’t fully conscious of what he was doing and why.

 

Here, though, Harry wasn’t catching barbs and ploys hidden under soft, caring warmth. The Malfoys didn’t hide behind pretense, they meant what they said and didn’t try to manipulate Harry to get what they wanted. If they wanted something from Harry, they would make it clear and threaten him—which they could, as two of the few people who knew his especially sensitive secret—but they weren’t. On the surface, as well as below, they seemed like two parents meeting their son’s partner and trying to get to know them.

 

After they finished eating and socializing, Harry joined Lucius in his study while Draco spent some alone time with his mother. No doubt already discussing how they were going to go about a small and private marriage ceremony without drawing too much attention to the pair, and also big enough that people actually know. Harry had first suggested to Draco in private, that they just go with the story that they didn’t want anyone interfering with their relationship because they might have their own disagreements, and ended up eloping. Draco had acted appalled by the suggestion, declaring something about how ‘no rightful pureblood would ever do something so horrendous’. It didn’t matter much to Harry, since in the eyes of the Izaki, they would be officially bonded for life or ‘married’.

 

“Why do you want to do this? Why are you trying so hard to help other magical creatures when you already know that, no matter what you do, you will always have to hide who you are?” Lucius asked, straight faced, the moment he was sat in his tall-backed leather chair behind his writing desk. Harry was caught off guard by the unexpected question, but it didn’t take him long to answer.

 

“I’ve seen a trend in regards to the Ministry and magical creatures. Over the last decade, more than half of all species of magical creatures have been retitled as ‘dark’, and well over half of those species have been systematically culled or imprisoned or somehow mutilated to make them ‘less of a danger to society’. The Ministry tells the public very little, only vague mentions of ‘aggressive behavior’ and ‘violent tendencies’, in order to brush what they’re doing under the rug and away from public concern. If you look at their research, though, it becomes quite clear that most of these creatures were choosing to not join the light or the dark. So called ‘violent tendencies’ consisted of these beings simply not wanting to aid in the light’s war. By raising awareness about what the Ministry is doing to magical creatures, I will be able develop some mistrust in the public’s views of the Ministry. Out of all of the illegal and immoral things that the Ministry have done, this is the only one that has been completely public. Everyone has access to this knowledge, they just didn’t bother to look.”

 

Lucius looked mildly satisfied, but still skeptical about something. “You’re saying that this venture to save all of the magical creatures isn’t just your Gryffindor side rearing its head again?” Lucius raised a questioning brow. Harry felt his anger flare up at that remark. Though, as insulting as it was to be treated like his old self, Harry knew that the question had its warranties. Lucius still didn’t trust Harry completely, which Harry could see why. After being on opposite teams for so long, and then suddenly having the enemy of everything you believed in and stood for abruptly thrust into your immediate family would be difficult for anyone.

 

“Do I feel a sort of comradery with magical creatures now that I am one? Yes, I suppose I do. But am I going to put everything on the line for those I’ve never even met? Of course not. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again because I truly mean it; I am no one’s ‘Savior’ anymore. I protect what’s mine and what I believe in, and right now that consists of your son, and aiding the imprisoned Izaki.” Harry didn’t mention the few friends he’s acquired after coming into his intended nature.

 

Although they have become important to Harry, telling Lucius that he would also be fiercely protective of his friends wasn’t exactly indicative of his earlier statement about having completely changed from whom he’d been before. The reality was, Harry hadn’t really changed all that much from the ‘previous Harry,’ at least not on the inside. The difference was, now Harry wasn’t afraid to be who he was, to do what he felt like doing, and to say what he felt like saying.

 

“Good, then I will give you my full support. There is a Wizengamot meeting coming up soon, there will be some interesting topics discussed at the meeting and I think it would be good for you to attend, seeing as how your lordship grants you an automatic seat on the Wizengamot once you’ve graduated from Hogwarts. I can bring you with me the next time I go and you can get a firsthand look at the process, and also find out which people are supporting what movements. It should help you to narrow down who you focus your efforts on.” Harry was stunned by Lucius’s offer. Not because the man was willing to help him, but the most important part was  _ how _ he planned on helping him.

 

Usually, pureblood lords of prominent families on the Wizengamot brought their sons—their  _ heirs— _ to Wizengamot meetings to learn the ropes. If Harry went to the meeting with Lucius as his escort, it would send a very clear message to everyone what his position was in regards to the Malfoys, while not as ‘son’ but as ‘son-in-law’ it was just as important. Harry gratefully accepted the invitation and promised to keep in touch with Lucius once he returned to Hogwarts.

 

֎

 

When Harry later told Draco about what his father had offered him, the taller Izaki was elated, knowing how much it meant to Harry—even if he wouldn’t admit it—that Lucius and Narcissa had accepted him as their son-in-law. When they returned to Hogwarts around lunchtime, Draco left with Snape almost the moment they’d arrived back in their room. Apparently, Severus had heard from Dumbledore that he had been meeting with someone crucial to the outcome of the war recently. Snape had been following Albus secretly over the weekend, but the man hadn’t met with said person yet.

 

That morning, though, Dumbledore had cleared his schedule for the entire day but left only shortly before they had arrived. Severus wanted Draco to go with him now that they were back. Harry had tried to go as well, but Severus said that there was no need for him to go along since Draco would be going and Draco would certainly tell Harry every detail if he wanted him to. Besides, as Severus so gently pointed out, if they both left no one would be there to watch over and possibly clean up after Mal. Which was a frightening thought in itself.

 

So while Draco was out, Harry decided not to venture out of his room much, wanting to get caught up on his assignments and a few letters he’d received over the weekend that were waiting to be read. The first two were just one annual notice statement from Gringotts to update Harry on the current state of his vaults, and one reply to a request he’d sent to the Ministry for a copy of his official records. As the subject of the records, Harry had access to more than just public record and would be able to see anything that might have been filed that could be brought up, say . . . while he’s taking down a prominent figure of Wizarding Britain’s society. The letter informed him that the records would be sent to him soon.

 

The last letter was held in a more weathered envelope and slightly wavy due to faint water damage. Harry stood in front of the window, using the fake afternoon light to examine and open the letter. This letter, surprisingly enough, was not protected by charms and composed of cheap muggle materials. Which means that it was written up and sent out hastily and not by someone who’d had pre-charmed parchment on hand. When Harry unfolded the single sheet of off-white paper, he went very still at what he was reading, having instantly realized whom the letter had come from.

 

_Dear Harry,_

__

_I deeply regret not keeping in touch with you as much as I probably should have. I have been busy with trying to support Tonks while she is on maternity leave from the Auror’s, but I think there are some more important matters we need to discuss. I know how hard you took Padfoot’s death—Merlin do I know—and I know that you need to grieve, whichever way you can. I just think that you might be going about it in an unhealthy and self-destructive way. I know you Harry, what I’ve been reading in the papers and what others have told me . . . it isn’t like you! I fear that you’re punishing yourself for what happened by doing all of these things you never would have done otherwise, and in the process, you will end up hurting so many other people without meaning to. Please Harry, do not shut out the people who care for you the most. We only have your best interests in mind. Please, for the sake of our world, come back to the light, where you belong, where your parents would have wanted you to be._

_ Sincerely, _

_ Moony _

  
  


Harry didn’t move from where he stood for several moments. Staring, dumbfounded, at the words on the parchment still clenched tightly in his hand. The words, no matter how hard he focused on them, stayed the same and so bloody clear that he couldn’t mistake their meaning. Behind the words, the ghost of another presence lurked, bleeding their own thoughts and ideas into the hands of the writer.

 

If Dumbledore were truly out right now to meet the one who was ‘vital to the outcome of the war’, then Harry had a fairly good idea who that person was, if this letter was anything to go by. Dumbledore was expanding his manipulations in order to get to Harry. It wouldn’t be long until he employed all of his little foot soldiers to do his dirty work and try to recruit Harry back to their side. He knew that Remus was blinded by Dumbledore’s persuasions, as they all were, but that didn’t take any of the sting out of it.

 

It felt wrong to have Remus used against him, in a way that none of the others had felt like. Remus was attached so firmly to the memory of Sirius and his parents that knowing that the old man had his claws in him felt like it was tainting the memory of them. Harry hadn’t realized until that moment, how unwilling he was to lose Remus in this battle with Dumbledore. To know that he’d already lost was more even more painful.

 

_ “Fuck!” _ Harry shouted and his hand was moving before he could stop to think about the consequences. Bare knuckles met glass and as the brittle window caved, the artificial light that had been streaming it winked out, plunging the room into abrupt darkness. Harry’s fist was stopped by the brick behind the fake window and an array of bright spots dance in his vision. Harry hadn’t realized that the window was the only source of light filling the room, otherwise he may have thought twice about letting his anger control him.

 

Harry sighed and blinked a couple of times, trying to clear the spots from his vision, but instead of going away, they only sharpened. Harry frowned as he looked down at the ground below him. The floor seemed to be covered in tiny little pinpricks of light in various shades of white, cobalt blue, and aquatic green, giving the room a very faint, eerie glow. After months of sleeping in this very room, Harry had never once seen such lights. They seemed to grow more concentrated and closer together as they neared around the center of the room, but not quite.

 

The little lights seemed most concentrated under the bed, so Harry cautiously approached the bed, crouched down and laid flat on his stomach on the cold stone floors. Harry noticed that the light here wasn’t just coming from the floor, but from the underside of the bed as well. Unable to actually see the underside of the bed, Harry decided to crawl underneath the bed and turn over onto his back so that he could get a better look. His breath hitched in his chest and his eyes widened at the galaxy of star-like lights glittered above him. Certainly he should have noticed this before! He’s been in this room countless times with the lights off.

 

But something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that something was different about this time. He supposed it might have to do with the fact that it’s never been  _ truly _ dark in there before. Even at night, fake moonlight still came through the window. Distantly, Harry remembered something Luna had said to him a while ago that he’d just written off as Luna-talk. She had mentioned how the castle was trying to tell him something and a bit about how . . .

 

“’ _ The stars are brightest on the darkest nights.’” _ Harry recalled, feeling the words click into what was happening, but still not sure if they were unrelated or not. As soon as the words were out, though, the solid stone beneath Harry seemed to ripple and descend. Harry’s body tilted down until the stone hardened once again and unyielding stone stairs leading into complete darkness supported him. Harry watched as the smattering of star-like lights appeared on the stairs, leading down into a curving stairwell.

 

Hesitantly, Harry moved fully into the spiraling staircase and began following the stairs down deeper into the earth, feeling intensely curious about where the stairs would lead him. As he turned the corner, Harry could hear the sound of shifting stones as his exit was most likely sealed back up. Comforting.

 

Harry walked for what felt like longer than it probably was, but long enough to itch at his curiosity even more. Draco would probably be upset with him that he would go down here all alone without him or anyone else knowing where he was, but Harry wasn’t willing to wait until Draco returned just because of some hidden staircase that probably hid some secret long-forgotten Slytherin club house at the bottom or something.

 

At the bottom, what Harry found was certainly not a club area, but perhaps far more intriguing. Harry stopped on the bottom step of the stairs, taking in the peculiar room around him. The room was cylindrical with a diameter of roughly fifteen feet made of dark—almost black—stone. There was a 1x1 foot trench-like structure encircling the edge of the room, filled with water like a miniature moat. The star-like lights dropped down into the pseudo-moat, casting the room in a serine, flickering glow of soft white and teals.

 

At the center of the room was a small well, only about three feet wide with smooth stone edges that rose a foot off of the ground. This one was also full of water, but it didn’t light up and instead of rippling and moving, this water was so still the surface could have been actually covered in glass. The black waters were a bit unsettling, like their stillness was deceiving and that some monster was waiting just below the surface to snatch up anyone who dared to get near.

 

Harry hopped over the little moat into the room and the moment his feet made contact with the ground, he was hit a mighty wind that almost knocked him back out of the room, but he crouched and held his ground. A tornado of wild winds circled him and shadows weaved through their currents in a frightful dance, blocking out the lights and submerging the room into darkness. A moment later, the wind died down and Harry was back in the room, but now it was pitch black.

 

Harry cursed lowly under his breath and was about to cast a lighting charm when he heard something coming from the stairwell. Harry focused his attention on what he was hearing and picked out the sound of two pairs of feet frantically running down the steps and two sets of lungs laboring to get enough air into the body. Curious, Harry stayed put in the dark, watching as softly glowing light slowly filled the stairwell as the pair got closer. Just as the room finished lighting up, two people in Hogwarts uniforms jumped into the room and wandlessly cast several protection spells and wards around the room. Harry was impressed, but he could tell that they had been rushed and sloppy about it, it would hold off normal wizards for a while, but they would eventually break through.

 

One of the students was a boy in Slytherin robes; tall, short black hair, handsome, well built. While the other was a shorter girl in Hufflepuff robes with long hair in scarlet waves, a round fair face that belonged in an elegant renaissance painting, with bright blue doe eyes and plump rosy lips. Neither of the two students—who looked to be in their sixth or seventh year—noticed Harry whatsoever. Actually, when the girl walked right past Harry, their arms brushed together, but Harry didn’t feel it in the slightest. Which meant that this wasn’t real, it was a memory that he must have triggered when stepping into the room.

 

The boy pulled the redheaded girl into his arms and kissed the side of her head for a long time, closing his eyes as he held on to her tightly. When they finally pulled apart, they both had severely determined expressions with a hint of sadness in their eyes. It confused Harry, but he figured that he would find out soon enough, or he wouldn’t, either way he didn’t really mind.

 

A thunderous booming noise echoed through the stairwell from somewhere high above the small chamber. Both students jumped and looked at the stairs in terror. The girl pulled the boy towards the well at the center of the room and they both knelt in front of the black water.

 

“Hurry, contact the Elders. Maybe they can tell us what to do.” She urged in a light, bell-like tone with the hard edge of fear in the underlying tone.

 

The boy’s face changed slightly, his eyes going from black to a glowing auburn brown, his features becoming sharper and more ethereal, and twin white fangs peeking out between his parted lips.  _ They’re both Izaki _ . Harry thought to himself, stunned and a bit excited. The boy stuck his right hand into the water and his body lost half of the tension it had been carrying, his eyes stared unseeingly into space as they began to cloud over until they were almost completely milky white. The water crept up his arm like a living thing, swirling around his forearm and going no higher.

 

“Ukiah, get the Elders quickly, it’s an emergency.” The boy demanded frantically, though there was no reply other than another thundering blast at the top of the stairs. “I don’t care!  _ Get them now! _ If you don’t, both of us will die. . .” A long silence followed and the boy’s face morphed into sorrow and his body drooped slightly. “He can’t, he . . . he’s dead. We’re on our own out here.” Harry could see the panic on the young girl’s face morph into resignation as she listened to only one side of the conversation, gathering enough information to know that things weren’t going well for them.

 

“How can you say that!?” He suddenly bellowed, furious and his black wings twitching in irritation. “You  _ know _ what it’s like there, Ukiah! How can you suggest we go with them willingly? They’ll separate us the moment we get there!” As the silence stretched on, only perforated with the occasional destructive explosion above them that made the girl flinch with its growing intensity.

 

The water slipped back down into the well and his eyes cleared to their bright glowing bronze color. The young Izaki looked up at his mate with sorrow and defeat. A choked sob erupted from her and she fell against his chest. They continued to embrace as a final blow was delivered to the stone covering the stairs and footsteps thundered on the cold steps.

 

The first wizard to reach the chamber slammed into the protective wards and crumpled on the stairs, but a moment later, he was back up on his feet and casting spell after spell at the barrier. The boy still on the floor with his mate turned her face away from the stairs and glared at the Auror as two more joined him. It didn’t take long for the wards to be dismantled and the room flooded with six Aurors who lined up by the wall across from the two young Izaki and stood at attention. There was something strange about the Aurors, they were strangely expressionless and mechanical.  _ Imperius Curse. _ Harry realized, stunned that someone had managed to  _ imperio _ six Aurors and maintain the curse for so long and with such control.

 

When the last person entered the chamber, though, Harry felt his shock vanish and morph into rage. A younger—perhaps by a few decades—Albus Dumbledore entered the room with twinkling eyes and silvery robes. The boy’s face twisted in confusion and the girl turned to look at their professor with the same expression. They looked a bit relieved in that moment, but Harry knew that they probably shouldn’t.

 

“Professor? What are you doing here?” He asked, glancing nervously between his professor and the line of Aurors behind Dumbledore. Dumbledore leveled his knotted and withered wand on the couple, the twinkle never leaving his eyes.

 

“As two illegal Izaki, you have put the entire student body, as well as the staff in great danger. Because of your actions, I have no choice but to do what is right.” Albus said in an emotionally-void tone. The relief drained from their faces and they pulled away from each other to put their hands up in the air in surrender.

 

“We’ll go to the compound quietly and calmly. Please, just don’t hurt Abigail!” The boy begged, melting back into his human form to come off as less threatening. A sharp, loud laughter filled the room as Dumbledore’s eyes grew crazed and his grin twisted wickedly.

 

“Who said anything about bringing you there?” Dumbledore huffed and shook his head. Then with the quick flick of his wand and a barely uttered word, the boy slumped to the ground with a flash of acidic green light. Abigail’s eyes widened in horror for a moment, and then, like she’d just been hit by a freight train of what had just happened, she screamed in agony and grief as she pulled the limp body of her mate onto her lap, clutching the soft black haired head to her chest as she sobbed and grappled at his robes and his face and his slackened hands.

 

The sounds that she emitted knocked the breath from Harry’s lungs and he couldn’t help but feel her residual grief in the memory. Dumbledore just stood back and watched with mild curiosity, as if they were insects and he was a kid with a magnifying glass. Harry wanted to stop it all, to step in and save the young submissive from whatever fate Dumbledore intended for her. But he couldn’t, this was a memory and whatever happened next had already taken place, was already set in stone and there was nothing he could do about that.

 

Abigail kissed her mate one last time before turning her deadly gaze on Dumbledore, but before she could get her revenge, she was hit with a curse that knocked her onto her back and she went completely still. It wasn’t the killing curse, though, Harry realized as he watched her chest continue to expand and contract. 

 

“I change my mind.” Dumbledore said to no one in particular, then addressed his  _ imperioed _ Aurors. “Take her to the Ministry. Let her live out the rest of her days grieving for her mate as she withers away into nothing.” Dumbledore said with a manic grin. Two Auror’s stepped forward to pick up the young unconscious Izaki from where she laid next to her dead mate.

 

Harry knew that  _ this, _ living without her mate, would be a fate worse than death. She would be in physical and emotional agony until a few days—maybe a week—later when she would inevitably die. The last thing that Harry saw before swept up in a whirlwind of darkness was Dumbledore staring down at the dead boy in disgust as the Aurors filed out of the room. Then Dumbledore looked back up at the stairs with a satisfied smirk and spoke.

 

“How did you enjoy the show?” And with that, Harry was thrust back into his own time.

 

Harry’s knees shook as the room settled down into how he’d seen it before the memory. Harry got down onto his knees carefully and braced his hands on the floor as his stomach roiled and clenched. The memory had disturbed him deeply, but . . . Harry lifted his head to look at the well in the center of the room . . . but at least he’d discovered something he’d been looking for since the moment he’d received his inheritance. A sense of victory washed over the sorrow and pain still lingering in his mind.

 

He found it. He finally found it!

 

A way to contact the inside. . .

  
  


 


	8. Chapter Eight: T.M.R.

 

Though Harry was keen on finding out whether he could actually contact someone inside Terra di Morte through the well-like structure he found in the hidden chamber below his room, he decided that it would be wiser to wait until Draco returned so that they could do it together. The problem wasn’t that Harry was worried that if anything were to go wrong that he wouldn’t be able to handle it himself, it was more that he knew how protective Draco had become since their mating. It might not have appeared that way to the outside world because both Harry and Draco had become experts at controlling the image that they portrayed, but to Harry he could see the glare Draco shot those who wandered too close to Harry and felt him push down the urge to fatally curse anyone who looked at Harry with anything but innocent eyes. Harry pay it any mind, though. Whoever was hurt or killed because of Draco’s darker tendencies were of little concern to him.

 

Actually, thinking about it now, he was feeling strangely stronger as the weeks passed. Being on Hogwarts grounds, Harry wasn’t able to really do much with his magic outside of classes. Even before coming back for his seventh year, Harry hadn’t been able to really test the limits of his new found magic because he hadn’t yet learned how to properly ward his estate from sending feedback to the ministry about how much magic was being used at once on the estate. The Potters had always been considered an avid light family, so they didn’t turn down the monitoring system the Ministry had placed over their home for their own ‘protection’.

 

The monitoring system, he discovered as soon as he had stepped onto the property, was fairly basic, sending reports into the Ministry only when unusually large amounts of magic was being used. The initial purpose of the system was to alert the Ministry if the Potters were under attack—which would mean copious amounts of magic being used—so that they could respond quickly. The system had been denied by most families and was quickly shut down, but that didn’t mean that the systems in place were still sending transmissions. It wasn’t a direct danger to Harry, but it would become one hell of a headache if unprecedented huge spikes of magical activity were to be recorded at the Ministry.

 

Which is why Harry had been only able to do fairly small and mundane spell work after his inheritance. But even without having fully explored his capabilities and limitations, he’d still felt his Magic growing stronger. It was hard to explain the feeling, it wasn’t overt, just a faint feeling that he occasionally noticed. It was a growing restlessness just under his skin that has been making him more and more agitated as it frenzied, begging for release. At first Harry had dismissed it as just another side effect of his incomplete courtship with Draco, but even afterwards it only grew in intensity. Harry was even having a bit of trouble in a few of his courses with controlling the amount of magic he used. Though he was still getting exceptional grades in his classes, the practical part was getting to be quite bothersome. Instead of just using his wand for show, the last week and a half Harry had gone back to actually using his wand in order to guide his magic a little better and regain some of his control.

 

Not even what had happened with the secret chamber under his room could calm his overzealous core for a few hours. If anything, it had made the buzzing in the back of his mind more persistent. It didn’t help any that Draco was gone for so long. Harry had shared a bit of what was going on with Draco, but after the Dominant Izaki had almost dragged Harry off to see a healer, Harry kept the worsening developments to himself. Usually Draco could distract Harry from the fizzling of his blood, but now there wasn’t a perfectly sinful blonde to take his mind off of the sensation.

 

So, in an effort to do it himself and take his mind off of the all-encompassing feeling of  _ need _ to abate his overly enthused magic, he instead turned his focus on the memory inlaid in the stones of the chamber, replaying it over and over again to try and pick up something new that would tell him more about what was happening.

 

It was pointless though, because every time he watched it, it was exactly the same and he became no closer to discovering who Dumbledore had been talking to in the stairwell. Whoever they were, they had disillusioned themselves skillfully enough that Harry couldn’t see them in the memory, and since it was in fact a  _ memory _ Harry couldn’t use magic to reveal their identity.

 

After the seventh time through the memory, Harry was starting to get worried about how long Draco and Severus had been gone. But every time his worry built up enough to push him into action, he was reminded that if something were wrong, he would know. The mating bond was a bit funny that way, it allowed emotions from the other person to seep through the bond and into their head, but no actual thoughts or words or images came through. It was similar to reading someone’s body language, not an exact science, but enough to glean from them their basic emotional states.

 

Eventually, Harry stopped being able to tolerate watching the young Izaki die and he had to leave the chamber. It wasn’t so much the screams that had unsettled him—whatever happened all those years ago was already over, there was nothing he could do and therefore he found himself quickly unaffected by the noises after the second or third time through—it was the frustration that came with not knowing more about whatever invaluable secret of Dumbledore’s he’d found.

 

Distractions were only useful for as long as they weren’t more aggravating than what you’re trying to distract yourself from.

 

Back upstairs, he fixed the enchanted window. When he saw that the enchanted window showed a darkened landscape of night, he lit a few lights around the room. As Harry passed, his fingers ran reflexively over one of Draco’s cloaks draped over the back of his desk chair.

 

Harry paused, tracing a seam of the cloak that normally ran over Draco’s broad shoulders when he wore it. His stomach twisted anxiously and his ears still range from the screams that seemed to echo through the walls of his brain. For a dreadful moment, Harry couldn’t help but think that it could someday be him. They were officially mated now, there was no going back for them. If he lost Draco . . . Harry’s head throbbed and his hands clenched at the thought.

 

His heart sped up dizzyingly fast and panic seized his muscles. Harry stepped back from the cloak but his legs had turned to jelly and he suddenly found himself sitting on the floor. The overwhelming sense that something was wrong flooded him, along with a sudden silence over the bond that meant that Draco was no longer conscious. These weren’t sensations he should be feeling. They weren’t his at all.  _ They were Draco’s! _

 

֎

 

Harry couldn’t really say how he’d found Mal, but in the span of what felt like less than a minute he’d located the disillusioned Izaki and pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. The fact that Mal had understood Harry’s frantic gibberish on the first try was nothing short of a miracle. Harry had his fists twisted in Mal’s sleeves, eyes begging him for help, to make it all better and tell Harry that it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He didn’t care if he looked weak in front of Mal, didn’t care how undignified his hysterical state was, he just wanted Draco to be okay.

 

Harry didn’t get what he wanted though, because Mal just turned his face away for a moment so he wouldn’t have to look at Harry’s agonized face. The little Izaki had almost immediately capture his affection, even if he did have one hell of a sadistic streak when Mal pushed his patience too far. Mal already felt so protective of his little demon that seeing the panic and fear in his beautiful killing curse green eyes was killing him. Even so, his expression was grave and Harry could barely breathe.

 

“Harry, I need you to calm down. I know that it’s the last thing you want to do at the moment, I know it’s difficult, but you must be level headed if you want to be of any help to Draco.” Mal’s tone gave away nothing that he might actually be thinking about the situation, but hearing Mal so calm was helpful. It took a few minutes, but eventually Harry was able to calm down enough to see reason and pull back down his protective mask of complete composure.

 

“Thank you.” Harry said after a moment, letting go of Mal’s sleeves and straightening back up. Harry could tear the world apart looking for Draco—and that’s exactly what he wanted to do in that moment—but whatever time Draco had left would certainly run out before Harry got to him. “The last thing that he was doing was following Dumbledore with Severus. I would bet every galleon in my vault that the old rat has something to do with this! Apparently Dumbledore was meeting with someone who is important to the war, if we can find out who that person is or where they might have gone to meet, we’ll most likely find them.” Harry was already walking out of the classroom and back in the direction he’d come from as he spoke.

 

“Are you sure? If Draco was knocked unconscious, a simple blow to the head wouldn’t have been enough to knock him out and there are very few people who know the complicated magic that can be used against Izaki. I thought your Head master was completely oblivious to that kind of stuff.” Mal sounded unconvinced that the pitiful-seeming old man he’d spotted around the castle was capable of such powerful magic. Though he was aware of the horrible things that bloody pensioner had gotten away with, he was doubtful that  _ he’d _ be able to bag himself an Izaki.

 

“Trust me, he’s more than capable. Turns out it is much worse than we thought. Dumbledore has experience with Izaki. How much? I’m not sure, but it’s enough for him to be the most likely reason that Draco’s unconscious right now.” Harry briefly summarized his find from earlier in the evening. Mal was extremely curious, that much was clear, but he stayed focused on the current situation as they stopped in front of the stone gargoyle.

 

Harry only had to name a few different candies before the statue began to move and they took the stairs up to Dumbledore’s office. Before Harry had even entered the office, He stupefied all of the portraits in the office so that no one could alert any of the professors and so that at least  _ some _ of Harry’s less-than-legal discretions stayed secret.

 

If Dumbledore was on his way to go meet with someone, then there had to be something in his office that would give them a clue as to who that person was. Harry started with Dumbledore’s desk while Mal searched through the rest of the room, pulling out papers slipped between stacks of books, rifling through files, de-warding cabinets and drawers. Harry found letters from and to parents of students, legal forms for the Wizengamot, too many blasted knickknacks, and a whole heaping pile of nothing.

 

Growling in frustration, Harry slammed another drawer closed with enough magical force that the wood splintered on impact. Then he moved to the stairs at the back of the office that would lead up to Dumbledore’s personal quarters. Unsurprisingly, Harry had to tear through several powerful wards to even get into his room. Harry wrinkled his nose at suddenly being surrounded by the sickly sweet scent of the loathsome man, it nearly turned his stomach.

 

Trying to ignore the more brutal tendencies threatening to creep back up on him, Harry began violently searching the Headmaster’s room to take out some of his frustrations. Harry felt vaguely satisfied when his rough investigation led to several robes and blankets being torn to ruin. He was about to leave the demolished room when he passed a locked mahogany cabinet and a forceful wave of magic pooled around his legs like molasses.

 

Harry dropped onto his knees and reached for one of the little oxidized metal handles that would open the double doored piece of furniture. It was fruitless though, because his hand was repelled from the handle like they were two opposing sides of a magnet. The wards around the cabinet were much stronger, older, and denser than the ones that had been placed on the door. Whatever Dumbledore was hiding in here, he’s had it for a very long time and it’s something he doesn’t want anyone to see. Which made Harry want to see it even more if only to annoy him more.

 

Even with Harry’s Izaki magic, it would take him at least a minute to properly peel back each layer one by one. He didn’t have that kind of time, though, so Harry used his overflowing emotions to fuel him along as he tore away multiple layers at once. The effort was nearly agonizing as each separate ward put up a fight and by the end of it, sweat slid lazily over his brow and his hands shook.

Having successfully freed the cabinet from the wards, he pulled open the doors to reveal a single item inside. A wooden box stained so dark it looked black. Harry prudently lifted the lid to reveal rows upon rows of vials that were short enough for there to be another set underneath. Bewildered, Harry plucked one of the vials up out of the box and brought it close enough to examine.  _ They were pensive memories _ . He thought, in shock.

 

They were different, somehow, from other pensive memories he’d seen. While those had been wisps of faint light, these were brilliant and more solid. Pensive memories were supposed to be copies of actual memories, but if their appearance was anything to go by, Harry could conclude that these  _ weren’t  _ fakes, but instead the  _ originals _ . Which means, whatever’s in the vials—assuming that they all came from Dumbledore—are something that he doesn’t want to get caught with in his head or something he doesn’t want to remember. Considering the man’s stomach for doing some truly horrible things, Harry was betting on the former.

 

Slotting the vial back into place and closing the lid, Harry carried the box back down into the office and didn’t bother searching for Mal with his eyes when he called out to him, knowing that he would hear him. Harry brought the box to the stone pensieve and fished out the oldest memory in the box. The white wisp slipped under the surface of the silvery cloud-like liquid that filled the stone basin just as Mal came up on the opposite side of the pensieve, staring gravely into the swirling liquid.

 

Taking a deep, calming breath, they both leaned over the rim of the pensieve and submerged the whole of their faces in the rippling liquid, the magic suddenly ripping them down through the pensieve and into an old, faded memory. When their feet slammed into the concrete with a bone rattling force, they were standing on either side of a much younger disillusioned Dumbledore—perhaps in his mid-forties. Looking around at their surroundings, it took a moment for Harry to recognize the building they were in front of.

 

A weathered brick building that shot up and punctured the sky. A morose feeling packed tightly into the cement between each drab brown brick that made the area surrounding the building feel like it had never stopped raining. The imposing brick wall with terribly sharp looking barrier spikes on top seemed to be trying to keep those that are inside  _ in _ , rather than protecting them from the outside world. Harry’s eyes finally settled on the name of the building spelled out in the wrought iron above the gate’s arches, confirming that he’d seen this place before, in another memory.

 

Wool’s Orphanage had been the temporary lodgings of one Tom Marvolo Riddle from his birth until his sixth year at Hogwarts. At first Harry thought that they were going to witness Dumbledore speaking to the young Tom, trying to take him to Hogwarts for his first year. But that changed when the scene around them morphed and resettled in what looked like the interior of the building they’d been in front of before. They were in a medium sized room with several abused wooden tables that looked like they were on the brink of collapse.

 

Still under disillusionment, they stood next to one of the tables, all of them filled with young boys of varying ages. Following Dumbledore’s line of sight, Harry’s eyes landed on a hunched over boy that couldn’t have been more than four or five. When another one of the boys called out his name, Tom looked up from where he’d hunched himself over his plate of food and Harry was stunned to see the fatigue and resignation in the child’s eyes. The boy who’d gotten Tom’s attention stood up from where he sat at another table, and plopped down across from Tom with a smug grin on his face as he looked around and saw that all of the seats around Tom were empty, like he’d been the one to make sure no one sat near the boy. They boy then leaned forward like he was about to tell Tom a secret.

 

“I heard, you  _ killed _ your mum.” The boy whispered with a sadistic light flashed in his eyes when Tom ducked his head to the side like he’d been hit. Despite everything he knows about who this boy would one day turn into, Harry felt instinctively protective of the boy when he heard the other one tormenting him. “That’s why you’re such a  _ freak _ , ‘innit? That’s why no matter how  _ nice  _ you are, you’ll never be adopted!  _ That’s why the matrons are trying to get rid of you!” _ Tom’s head jerked up at that last part, eyes full of so much fear.

 

A harsh laugh punched through the frozen air around them as the other boy’s head tipped back and he clutched his stomach, laughing at the agonized expression on Tom’s face. It took only a second for Tom to be up out of his seat and running out of the room as more voices joined in. Dumbledore followed Tom, Harry and Mal close behind him.

Tom hadn’t gone far, he’d only made it to the end of the hallway and around the corner before he pressed his small hands over his ears to drown out the noise, closed his eyes and curled in on himself. Dumbledore stepped closer to the young boy, looming over him like a giant. Harry felt his insides rebel against him as Dumbledore pulled something out of one of his inner robe pockets. Harry moved so that he could see what was in his hand. It was a small corked bottle with what looked like living black smoke swirling around inside of it.

 

Dumbledore also pulled out his wand and whispered an  _ imperio _ .

 

_ Imperio’s are extremely dangerous to perform on such a young child! _ Harry thought. Harry watched in stunned horror as Dumbledore commanded the frozen boy to turn toward him. A shiver ran down his back when he saw those milky unseeing eyes and vacant expression. Dumbledore handed the bottle to Tom and commanded him to drink it. When the contents of the bottle was empty and Dumbledore was back under a disillusionment charm, all three stood back and watched as little Tom woke up from the effects of the  _ imperio _ .

 

The blooming fury in his gut sped up as the scared little boy Harry had seen was replaced by cold, perilous dark eyes, clenched fists, and unbridled disgust. They were forced to follow Dumbledore as passengers in his memory, back into the small dining hall with the little demon. Tom walked right up to where the boy who’d teased him was sitting and waited until he had his attention. When he finally noticed him, the young face twisted grotesquely into a sneer, like Tom was an insect that got crushed under his boot.

 

“What are you on about now? Back for more? Oh-ho! I like that expression you got there, gives me chi—” The never finished that sentence. One moment, Tom was still as stone, barely even breathing, then in a split second, he’d picked up the metal fork beside the boy’s plate and plunged it so deep into the boy’s hand that it was deeply imbedded in the wood table top. A tortured scream filled the silent hall and the only other sound that could be heard was a low chuckle from a child. Screams and laughter ran in the air like a demented symphony and all Harry could do was sit and watch the glee in Dumbledore’s eyes sparkle like this was better than he could have ever hoped for.

 

Straightening up, Harry absently wiped the residual water-like substance from his face, eyes locked on Mal’s tired and aging gaze. They didn’t say anything. Nothing  _ to _ say, really.

 

Harry plucked the next vial from the bottom rows and poured it into the pensieve. Staring into the stone basin, Harry kept his mind on Draco and not the chilling laughter that still echoed in his mind.

 

“Farther down the rabbit hole we go.” Harry intoned morosely as he leaned forward again.

 

֎

 

Lucius Malfoy was making his way briskly through Diagon Alley when he heard the faint sound of steps matching his pace. Lucius discreetly glanced over his shoulder, but no one was looking at him or even moving at the same pace as him. Frowning, Lucius continued on his way, wanting to get lunch at an upscale pureblood café nearby before his scheduled monthly trip to Gringotts.

 

The footsteps picked up a bit behind him as he made his way a little more quickly and Lucius whipped around, robes billowing around him as they caught up with his movements. But there was no one there. No disillusionment spells, no glamour’s—which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in Diagon Alley—no one was even looking at him or  _ not _ looking at him suspiciously! Heaving a sigh in frustration and deciding that he would need to have a chat with a healer soon if his paranoia continued like this, Lucius continued on his way.

 

Thankfully, Lucius made it all the way to the café without any more strange noises following him. However, when he saw the only person inside the café aside from a worker, his unease returned in double—not that he let any of that show on his face. Sitting at a small two person table by the large windows, basking in the morning sun, was Harry Potter. Harry was comfortably reclined in his seat, eyes closed and face turned toward the warm light. Before he’d even opened his eyes, a slow smile that unsettled Lucius deeply pulled at the corners of his mouth. Then, those killing curse green eyes locked on his and he couldn’t look away. How he’d even found the young man anything less than deadly the last time he’d seen him—which was only yesterday morning—was beyond him. This creature in front of him now, was every bit of Izaki as his DNA claimed him to be.

 

“Sit, Lucius, we need to have a little chat.” His voice was so calm and deceptively soothing. Lucius sat down slowly with a guarded expression. For all that it appeared to be, Lucius  _ knew  _ that this wasn’t just going to be a pleasant chat between him and his future son-in-law. He also, for some reason, felt that the noises he’d heard on his way there had had something to do with the man sitting across from him.

 

Harry didn’t look away from Lucius as the worker gently placed a cup of tea down in front of Lucius and promptly left. The complete absence of customers and workers didn’t go unnoticed by Lucius. Harry picked up his own up and took a sip, looking completely at ease. The prolonged silence grated at Lucius’s nerves as the tension in his stick straight back and neck mounted. Finally, Harry gingerly set down his tea and folded his hands in his lap.

 

“You’re still loyal to Voldemort.” Harry stated in a flat tone, his expression showing nothing. Lucius opened his mouth to vehemently deny it, but Harry just held up a hand to stop him and an almost crushing weight of magic filled the room and it took all of Lucius’s many years spent with the Dark Lord not to groan or sag in his seat.

 

“That wasn’t a question.” Harry warned, silently telling Lucius that he would not tolerate being interrupted. “From the very beginning, I thought it was strange. That Voldemort—the insane mass murderer with almost endless magic at his beck and call—wouldn’t even  _ try _ to come after you and Narcissa for betraying him. Voldemort has never been much of the forgiving type of guy, so  _ why _ is it that over these past few months he hasn’t so much as  _ looked _ in the direction of your wards? You were a member of his inner circle even! I’m not half as mental as he is and if I had been in his place, I would at the very least cut you open a few times, make it hurt, and then killed you.” Harry’s voice stayed deathly calm and Lucius visibly paled as the pressure of the magic around him didn’t ease up.

 

“The dark mark may be gone, but the beliefs that brought you and Narcissa to his side are still there. If anything, it makes you even more valuable! If even the Death Eaters believe that you turned your back on Voldemort, you’ll become a bigger asset to the light since you know so much about the dark as it is, and will therefore be the perfect spy. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about your political affiliations, it may even be beneficial to me in the future, but I know how much you care about Draco and what he may say about your little relapse to the dark side.” Harry shrugged.

 

“Does he know?” Lucius’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Harry must of heard him clearly enough because he only took a moment before answering.

 

“No. But he will. It’s not even a matter of  _ when _ he’ll find out, just by  _ who _ . I have a proposition for you. Answer a few of my questions, and I won’t tell him about this myself, you will. It might not seem like much of an offer, but if you think about it, it’s worth quite a lot. Either way, Draco will find out, and if it’s by me I can promise that I won’t be sympathetic to your situation while explaining. If  _ you _ tell him, as long as it contains the truth, I won’t step in if a few parts are sugar coated.” Harry offered, easing a bit more of his magic off of Lucius and reigning it back in. Lucius seemed to breathe a little easier, but there was still a slight pressure on his skin that reminded him of what Harry was capable of.

 

Lucius straightened up a little in his seat and tried to regain some semblance of control, even if it only appeared that way. Harry seemed to find this amusing, his lips thinning slightly and the unexpected appearance of a shallow dimple on his right cheek distracted Lucius for a moment.

 

“What do you want to know?” Lucius asked and the pressure in the room completely dissipated. Harry quirked an insincere smile and took another sip of his tea just to make Lucius slightly uncomfortable again.

 

“Your lord . . . Every year, right around this time, he disappears somewhere. No Death Eaters, no followers of any kind. I need to know where.” All faux-pleasantries vanished from Harry’s tone, he wasn’t playing games anymore. He had Lucius right where he wanted him and he didn’t want to waste another moment looking for Draco, though he knew that he still had to tread carefully.

 

“Even if he  _ did, _ what makes you think I would betray my lord to tell you that, or that I would even  _ know?” _ Lucius scoffed, eye alight and incredulous. Harry’s temper flared as his patience dwindled and his magic reacted in accordance. Lucius’s face contorted in immense pain while grunts and sharp breaths were forced through his teeth. Harry slowly stood and when his cold deathly green eyes met gunmetal grey, he knew exactly what Lucius was feeling. The pain was about on the level of a  _ crucio _ , but it wasn’t about the pain, it was about what Lucius was  _ realizing _ .

 

Harry had been a powerful wizard even before his inheritance, but now . . . his strength is overwhelming. The power that surrounded Lucius was almost suffocating, but at the same time it also spoke to something deep inside of him that just wanted to submit to Harry’s will. It was like the magic was resonating in his bones and commanding the most primal parts of his DNA. It was frightening how much influence the young boy had over him. But there it was, always sneaking up to remind him once again that this wasn’t just  _ any boy, _ this is an Izaki. A dark creature with raw power that made wizards look like muggles in comparison.

 

Harry leaned over the table and grabbed onto Lucius’s clean shaven jaw, fingers digging painfully into his flesh as he brought their faces closer and forced Lucius to look him in the eye. Lucius knew what was coming, knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the legilimency, so he tried not to flinch when he felt the invisible fingers forcing their way into his mind with little resistance. In only a matter of seconds, Harry was already pulling back with a satisfied smile on his face.

 

Harry had found what he was looking for. Lucius did, in fact, know about Voldemort’s little escapades around this time of year. He was amongst perhaps less than three people who may actually know where the Dark Lord likes to go on holiday.

 

Find Voldemort and they’ll find Dumbledore.

 

Find Dumbledore and they’ll find Draco.

 

Harry left the café without another word, his shadow coming up beside him and forming into a taller Izaki. They moved swiftly through the streets, glamor in place to keep others from recognizing them.

 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell him. The man obviously cares enough about Draco, if he knew that Draco was in trouble he’d—”

 

“Exactly, he cares about Draco enough to do something stupid, like go after him himself. If we do find both Dumbledore  _ and _ Voldemort there, then things could get a little tricky. Lucius would only get in the way and might get himself killed. It didn’t matter much anyways, it was inevitable that I’d get what I needed from him.” Harry shrugged and they turned down a narrow and empty alley way. Having seen in Lucius’s mind where they would need to apparate to, Harry grabbed Mal’s wrist and apparated them both just outside the wards.

 

Harry’s power may have grown with the inheritance, but apparation still made him queasy. They were in the middle of the woods, breath clouding in the frigid open air and a light layer of snow covering the forest floor. Harry paid no mind to the chill as he began to walk. The anti-apparation wards went out extremely far, so from there they’d have to walk. Feet crunching through the snow, Harry’s mind drifted back to the past several hours to get his mind off of the icy wind.

 

The memories after the first one were very similar; Dumbledore showed up at the orphanage under disillusionment every year within the same couple of days to  _ imperio _ Tom, give him the strange black-smoke stuff, and watch as Tom became more and more violent with the other children. If one of the matrons tried to do something about it or get rid of Tom, Dumbledore shut it down quickly and cast a few  _ obliviate’s _ to ensure that Tom would stay at the orphanage. It was like some sort of sick experiment where Dumbledore wanted to see how far he could push Tom to act out against the other children.

 

Eventually, the memory Harry had seen came along and it was very similar to what he remembered, but at the end Dumbledore cast another  _ imperio _ on Tom. It was different that time, though. Instead of commanding the young Tom Riddle to drink whatever that black stuff was, Dumbledore cast a very complicated and intricate spell he didn’t recognize and watched as a transparent, almost holographic 3D representation of a brain— _ Tom’s brain _ —hovered above Tom’s scalp. Different areas of the copied brain lit up minutely every few seconds.

 

Dumbledore pulled out the familiar glass bottle and uncorked it. Tipping it over above Tom’s head, Harry expected it to go right through the representation of his brain and to hit his head, but instead it pooled and swirled around in the holographic brain, like smoke trapped in a jar. The smoke seemed to soak into the very tissues like ink on white linen.

 

After that, Tom became far more closed off from everyone else. He no longer attacked anyone who so much as looked at him wrong, instead he kept to himself but the smiling boy he had been that would inevitably return every year just before Dumbledore paid him a visit no longer made an appearance. Harry wasn’t sure what the changed application meant or why it affected Tom in such a way, but for whatever reason, that Tom seemed so much worse.

 

Like horribly depressing movie with no humor or happy ending, they watched hours upon hours of Tom slowly growing into the monster the world knew today as Voldemort. It seemed that Dumbledore had never missed a year and Tom was never the wiser. The repeated  _ imperio’s _ over so many years starting from such a young age had built up a conditioned response in Voldemort so that even while not under the curse, he would unconsciously feel the need to go back to where Dumbledore would do whatever it is that he had done every year.

 

The most shocking part came when Harry encountered a familiar memory early on in some of the memories not directly tied to the process of what was done to Tom, it was just from a different perspective than he’d seen. Within the first few years at Hogwarts, Tom had discovered a room, the opening blasted open with magic that led down into a secret chamber. What he saw down there was frightening, but after a few ‘meetings’ with Dumbledore, it became clear what those creatures he’d seen were, and something inside of him instinctively hated them. Tom had wanted to go after Izaki, but with so few actually living out of the shadows and with him still being in school, Dumbledore was able to steer him towards going after muggles and muggleborns.

 

This time around, Draco and Severus followed Dumbledore and witnessed him with Voldemort, somehow they were caught and Dumbledore got to them before they could deflect.

 

With a secret like that, Dumbledore won’t just let them go, but whatever he’s planning on doing with Severus and Draco he must be in the process of taking care of Voldemort first because Draco hasn’t woken up yet but he’s still alive. It was a small, desperate comfort, but at least it was something.

 

After what felt like hours trekking through the snow, Harry saw a familiar sight through the trees. It was a two story house out in the middle of nowhere that looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in at least a century. On the brink of collapse, the structure reminded Harry of the shrieking shack. Along with that came memories of Sirius and Remus. Harry’s chest felt a little constricted and he thought to himself,  _ I can’t lose anyone else! _

 

Just knowing that somewhere in that house was Dumbledore  _ and _ his mate had Harry willingly letting go of his carefully held control over his magic. He could feel it spilling into the air around him, volatile enough that Mal had to walk a few paces behind Harry to avoid accidentally becoming the target of said magic. Before Dumbledore could feel the change in the innermost wards, Harry was up the porch steps and through the front door. Harry had seen enough pensieve memories of the process to know what to expect when he found Dumbledore, but he was still stunned to see it in person.

 

Dumbledore loomed over the figure lying flat on a wooden table, the dark robes spilling over the edges of the tabletop in a cascade of black. Harry caught a glimpse of grey almost translucent skin and the glowing healer spell used to do the magical version of brain surgery. When Dumbledore saw who’d walked in, he then hissed out a curse from between his clenched teeth and whirled his wand in sharp motions. Harry easily deflected the curse and took a step towards him.

 

More curses were cast one after the other, but not a single one go through Harry’s shields. Dumbledore hesitated, seeming to be caught trying to decide what to do and Harry took advantage of his lapse in attention. The curse hit him full on, but when nothing happened immediately, Dumbledore grinned and apparated a second later. It wasn’t a curse that would take effect until later anyways, so Harry was satisfied that he’d managed to hit Dumbledore full on with the curse. Harry had planned on waiting a little longer to really start playing with the old goat, but his hand was forced and he would start the torment more quickly to ensure that he could get rid of Dumbledore quicker.

 

Mal didn’t say anything from beside him, just one look from Harry and he knew what he had to do. Mal moved deeper into the house to look for Draco. More than anything, Harry wanted to be the one to tear the house apart looking for his mate, but there were other matters that needed to be taken care of. Harry approached the table slowly, watching for even the slightest twitch from the unconscious snake-like man on the table. Dumbledore hadn’t canceled any of the spells in his quick departure, which made it much easier for Harry to do what he had been planning since halfway through watching the pensieve memories.

 

Dumbledore had almost completely finished with the ritual by the time they’d arrived, so the swirling black around Voldemort’s brain was fresh. Harry pulled out his wand and began carefully to  _ accio _ the black smoke out of the holographic brain. It took a while to gently remove all of the new smoke, at some point Mal had returned and told Harry that Draco and Severus had been found in one of the rooms and he’d taken them both back to Hogwarts. After that Mal just stood back and watched as more and more of the poisonous smoky substance was extracted and dripped onto the floor.

 

From what Harry could tell from the pensieve memories, whatever effects that stuff had over Voldemort would fade after about a year, but Voldemort never went back to being exactly Tom. It was like the control Dumbledore had over Voldemort and whatever was driving him to be insane was what was fading. After Harry had cleaned all of the new substance from the brain, he could see that the many years of repeated exposure had caused an irremovable buildup in his brain tissues and both white and grey matter. It also would have built up in other parts of his body, it’s just that putting it into his brain was the most direct way to get the most amount of the substance into his body.

 

Harry was just finishing getting all that he could out when he felt something wet touch his knuckles. Harry looked at his wand and saw that a bit of what he’d been cleaning out had dripped down the underside of his wand and touched him. Almost immediately, Harry saw flashes before his eyes, images. Blood and smoke. The glint of metal. Pain and Fear interwoven so tightly that they melded into one.

 

Discretely wiping his hand off on the outer layer of his robes, Harry canceled the spells on Voldemort and he departed with Mal quickly before he woke up. They may or may not have fixed what was making Voldemort so . . .  _ insane _ , but that didn’t mean that Voldemort would be any less furious when he woke up and actually  _ remembered _ what happened this time. Perhaps it would lead to him remembering all the other times and he would improve, or maybe he would go right back to being a thorn in Harry’s side.

 

Harry wouldn’t have been so worried if he hadn’t realized the moment that stuff had touched his skin what it was. Harry had read so books that vaguely mentioned the ‘Great Evil’ that Izaki had been at war with. A species that has been dead for thousands of years,  _ just how in the hell had that old coot gotten his hands on that shite?! _ If Voldemort was the product of some twisted science experiment, Dumbledore is far more naive and idiotic than he’d originally thought.

 

֎

 

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he practically tore through the walls and floors to get down to the dungeons. Draco was just sitting up and blinking on Harry’s bed when he came bursting through the door. Less than a half of a breath later, Draco had his arms full of a shaking mess of inky black hair and ruffled black robes. Draco chuckled and grinned fondly down at his beautiful mate, who was holding him so tightly that, were he human, surely would’ve cracked a few ribs.

 

The door that had been left open in Harry’s frantic race to get into the room suddenly slammed shut with a bit of wandless magic and Harry climbed more fully into Draco’s lap. Draco didn’t say anything as Harry pressed his nose into the base of his neck and breathed in deeply. As adorable as it was, Draco knew that it was more than just Harry missing Draco’s absence, he was trying to reassure himself that Draco was okay and still with him. If the roles had been reversed, Draco knew that he would have killed at least a few dozen people in his search for Harry, and when he found him, Draco wouldn’t have let anyone within fifty feet of his Harry. So Draco didn’t tease the smaller Izaki for his actions.

 

Even when unconscious, Draco had felt the absence of his mate, felt the panic and rage and sorrow. He had wanted more than anything to be with his Harry again, to comfort him and reassure him that everything was okay. Feeling how much pain his absence had caused Harry, Draco made a promise to himself that he would never leave Harry alone like that. He would never let himself be killed or badly hurt if only to save Harry from that pain and worry.

 

Harry slowed in his ministrations and instead of sniffing and nudging, he began to lightly press kisses into Draco’s skin. When Harry finally pulled back, his breathtaking green eyes were full to the point of almost spilling over and Draco’s chest tightened with the despair and desperation shared over their bond.

 

_ “Don’t you  _ ever _ leave me again!” _ Harry whispered harshly into the short space between them. Draco responded not with words, but by leaning in and capturing Harry’s lips with his own. The kiss was slow and forceful, like they were conveying each heart-wrenching emotion that filled them at that moment through their lips.

 

Harry needed to be closer to Draco, as close as physically possible to try to ease the ache in his chest, so he was ripping off clothing and popping buttons and vanishing certain unnecessary items of clothing until they were both completely bare, with nothing separating them. They rolled around on the bed together, clinging and caressing, kissing and biting, all with the desperation of two lovers that were vowing to never part. It was different from their first time together, that had been all heat and passion and mind-numbing pleasure, and this was . . .  _ them, _ just them, no Izaki hormones or neediness to mate, it was just two people that wanted nothing more than to be a close and as intimate as physically possible.

 

Draco prepared him with the love and care that a few months ago, Harry would have never thought was possible! Such gentle touches and feathered kisses to his chest, neck, and face that made him feel so safe and warm that he practically melted into the soft sheets underneath him. Harry could barely keep his eyes open at the onslaught of blissful sensations, the noises that left his lips unfiltered and almost completely disconnected from his mind for all the control he had over them.

 

When he felt the press of Draco’s cock at his entrance, he opened his eyes halfway to see his lover over him. Draco looked for all the world like a beautiful and devastating angel with his halo of blonde hair, messy in the most perfect ways, and a face that could only have been made by the hand of some sort of godly presence. But, how an angel could make someone want to sin so badly was beyond Harry’s ability to process thought at that moment.

 

Harry reached up and ghosted his fingertips over the features of his angel of death, his breath coming out slow and heavy as his hand was caught up by his lover and sinful lips brushed against the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. A shiver slid down his back like an icy feather against his spine and he became impossibly harder. Harry used his other hand to grab the back of Draco’s neck and pull him down close enough that he could wrap his arms around those broad shoulders and lighting his legs up to lock around Draco’s waist, pulling him down closer until the tip pressed hard enough to make his vision go light and fuzzy at the edges, but not enough to actually slip passed the tight ring of muscle. Draco growled softly in his ear and Harry pulled him in a little closer, the head of Draco’s cock suddenly surrounded by tight warmth that was contracting around him.

 

Before he could push all the way in, though, Harry hooked his leg around one of Draco’s and flipped them over so that he was on top of Draco. Draco’s expression darkened and a possessive hand gripped his hip while the other grabbed onto his thigh. Harry braced both hands on Draco’s solid chest and lifted up enough to feel the head of Draco’s cock catch lightly on his entrance. Harry gasped faintly and had to close his eyes for a moment so that he could reign in his thoughts again before pushing all the way down. When he opened his eyes again, Draco was face to face with him, having sat up on the bed and wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. Bright silver eyes flashed in the dimly lit room and Harry was entrapped in that dangerous gaze.

 

Harry began to move up and down slowly, and though he liked being in control like this, liked being the one to set the pace and turn Draco into the panting mess, he had to admit that being face to face with Draco in this position—sharing breath, embracing, moving together, kissing with even more emotion than their first kiss had been when they reunited—he like this much better.

 

Wrapped in Draco’s arms as they made love, with Draco in just the right position to hit that mind-blowing bundle of nerves with each thrust downward, Harry felt like he was moving through hundreds of worlds at once. With every slow blink of his eyes, flashes of blinding blue skies, green grass so rich he could practically feel the brush of its thick bedding cushioning his knees on either side of Draco’s hips, exotic flowers so vibrant their petals seemed to be made of pure pigment, and violent oceans that crashed into those jagged rocks made a crisp soothing sound in his ears in rhythm with each thrust.

 

Harry’s senses were flooded with  _ so much _ of everything that the only thing that grounded him was Draco’s breath against the curve of his shoulder. Soon, the pleasure rolling through Harry’s body was so much that when he opened his eyes, he saw the breathtaking views around him, no longer hidden behind his eyes. He looked at Draco in amazement and the blonde seemed just as astonished as he was, which meant that he wasn’t the only one seeing it. They felt the cool wind of a cliffs edge by the sea, saw moss coated forests priming with life, heard the echoes of rushing water from deep inside a cavern, breathed in the thick air of an ancient temple, and felt the tickling spray of mist coming from a deafening waterfall.

 

When Harry’s orgasm finally hit its pinnacle, he felt like he was in a thousand places at once, experiencing every single one to its fullest while never losing focus of Draco’s body underneath him, gripping his hips tightly as he made the most beautiful noises and came with Harry. When Harry’s magic pulled itself back into Harry and the scenery around them faded back into the Slytherin dorm room, he was breathing like he’d run a marathon and his heart was still pumping so much pleasure through his body that he practically collapsed beside Draco on the bed—who looked to be in the same state of post-orgasm bliss.

 

“That was. . .” Draco trailed off, voice full of awe and still slightly breathless.

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. . .” Harry’s voice a bit rough and he had to wonder if he had been more vocal than he was aware. Harry turned over onto his side with some effort and Draco automatically did the same, pulling the small brunet into his arms. Harry wrapped himself around Draco, taking comfort in his mate being so close to him again.

 

It had only been less than two days since they had completed their mating bond and Harry had already almost lost Draco once. He had been too careless before, he underestimated the danger that Dumbledore imposed and he could promise that he wouldn’t let that happen again. He wouldn’t let Dumbledore win. He wouldn’t let some filthy, lowly, less-than-a-muggle worthy vermin win any more of their little battles. It’s time that things started changing around here and Harry started to make Dumbledore regret having ever  _ met _ Harry in the first place. He would bring pain— _ oh, so much pain— _ and he would bring Dumbledore to his knees before him, make him grovel in front of him for the nuisance he’s proven to be.

 


	9. Chapter Nine: Gail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! Because this chapter is shorter than usual and I didn't get to put as much plot into it as I was hoping to, I will probably be posting another shorter chapter this upcoming weekend.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! And please leave a comment below! I love hearing what you guys have to say and your questions help me to know where to go next. Feel free to tell me things that confuse you, loose ends you want to see tied, or things you would like to see more or less of.
> 
> The beauty of writing a fic chapter by chapter if the feedback I get along the way. Share your opinions! Who knows, you might see what you like if you do!

 

When Harry had resolved to make some changes to how he approached the issue of Dumbledore, he had never expected for the change to be reflected so quickly in his house. Harry spent a lot more time in the Slytherin common room after his confrontation with Dumbledore’s atrocities, sitting in the plushest chairs surrounded by their little band of serpents with Draco always somewhere close by. At first, he didn’t really think much of it, since he hadn’t spent enough time in the common room to have noticed the difference, but after about a week he became more aware of how his little snakes were acting.

 

Slytherin is very different from other houses. In other houses, there was always a loose hierarchy among the students that was common even in muggle schools; older students on top with the rest of the food chain descending with year. Though, the hierarchies really aren’t of any significance to the students that are apart of them. On the other hand, in the Slytherin house, hierarchies are always closely monitored because of the significance they will have in the real world. The hierarchy in Slytherin isn’t determined by age, but by power—whether it’s magical power, money, prestige, the power of the parents, or simply their last name though it’s usually a combination of all of these things.

 

When you leave Hogwarts these hierarchies may not have any sort of binding legal value, but it would be ignorant to say that they didn’t carry on into the world of work. They can make the difference between a well-connected job with lots of benefits and a job at the bottom of the food chain, never able to really climb your way up.

 

It hadn’t taken Harry long to see the strict and delightfully powerful hierarchy system in Slytherin. Observation had become one of Harry’s most useful tools after his inheritance and he’d have to be blind to not see how his fellow Slytherins conducted themselves in and outside of the common room. In public, they  seemed like nothing more than the proper pureblood ladies and gentlemen that they had been raised to be while also being the children that they undeniably were with the same loose social system of the other houses with the seventh years on top. Out of public eye, though, told a very different story. They still laughed and acted like children, but there were those small moments when the word of a superior was obeyed without question or respect was generously given only to a select few.

 

Harry had always thought it was adorable, like watching a bunch of children dress up in their parents’ clothes and play house or something. Harry had underestimated the power of the hierarchy until he saw it in action. Apparently, there were several of his classmates in their fifth year that had got it in their heads that Harry wasn’t fit to be in their house, much less hold any sort of position in the hierarchy that wasn’t the very bottom. Harry wasn’t in the least bit surprised that there were Slytherins that hated him—hell, he was more bloody surprised that there weren’t  _ more _ that wanted him dead—so he paid them little mind.

 

Harry was used to the underhanded curses and jinxes thrown at him by his former Gryffindor classmates, so he knew that he would have no problem deflecting anything they sent his way. It wasn’t until later that day when news of several sixth year Slytherins popping up in the infirmary with severe injuries that he realized that he didn’t have to deal with them. The Slytherins had been unusually calm in the common room that evening and he caught a few of them even had the slightest smirk on their lips that they hid behind sips of tea and a contemplative hand as they read their books.

 

Just to make sure that Draco hadn’t done something stupid like run around the school cursing underclassmen to defend Harry’s honor or something, Harry pulled Pansy aside when she joined them and asked her. The smile she gave Harry would have made even a demon shiver at its sinister gleam.

 

“No, Draco had nothing to do with those sixth years. I suspect that you’re ‘defenders’ could be anyone within our house, many would have jumped at the chance.” Pansy rolled her eyes in a manner that said that rather than annoyed, she was quite endeared to the thought. Harry frowned, casting a quick glance at rest of the common room suspiciously.

 

“But  _ why? _ That doesn’t make any sense.” Harry watched a few of the students who had seemed rather pleased with themselves with newfound suspicion. Pansy laughed, immediately pulling Harry’s attention back to her.

 

“You may be quick to pick up on most things, but I think your lack of experience of being in Slytherin for years has left you blind to some of the most important details.” Pansy paused long enough to give Harry an insufferable look, before continuing. “Before you sully that gorgeous face with worry lines and scowls, I’ll tell you why your classmates are acting this way. It’s the  _ hierarchy _ , Harry!

 

“You may not be aware of it, but sometimes you give off this energy or magic that just . . .  _ demands _ to be obeyed. It’s rather hard to describe, it’s like even our  _ magic _ is pushing us to do as you say. I know you don’t mean to, or are even aware of it, but it happens almost every time you speak or are around someone new—except for Draco, of course. No one’s really sure  _ what _ it is that you do, but because of it, you’ve made quite a comfy and spacious spot at the top of the hierarchy. I know it might not seem like much to have the faith and obedience of a bunch of school children, but trust me when I say that this is no small achievement and that the ties we make here in school tend to greatly impact the rest of our lives.” Pansy declared quietly in a private voice so that they wouldn’t be overheard. Harry has a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t so that no one around them would hear it, but to save face for Harry.

 

_ The respect of the entire Slytherin house? Well, that was certainly unexpected! _ Harry thought to himself as Pansy left him to his thoughts and to sit in one of the plush chairs she favored. Harry couldn’t help but feel both apprehensive and eager at the same time.

 

After Harry discovered why his housemates were acting so strangely, he started to notice everything that had changed within the house. To start, the others were more friendly and respectful of him, they also would no longer hide their hatred of the Headmaster. It was quite amusing hearing what they had to say about him in the common room, Harry never contributed, but they all knew how he felt.

 

Speaking of the Headmaster, Harry was absolutely giddy to see that the latent curse he’d cast on Dumbledore in that old cabin had worked and didn’t go unnoticed by the Headmaster. Draco had been just as amused as Harry when he’d explained what he’d done. Harry was rather sick of all of the shite pouring out of Dumbledore’s mouth every moment of the day, of everyone acting like Dumbledore was some sort of righteous god who could do no evil and inflict no harm. So, to rectify that, Harry had used a curse he’d found months before in a very old spell book, one from before dark magic started to be seen as malevolent.

 

According to the book, the curse would incubate for at least a day or so, only presenting itself  _ after _ the counter-curse became almost impossible if not done by the caster of the initial curse. Once it was done incubating, it would take effect slowly, growing stronger with each infliction of the curse. The most important part, though, was what the curse  _ did _ . It supposedly would act as almost a permanent  _ veritaserum _ , the potion that forced someone to spill all of their secrets.

 

This curse would pick up on every time Dumbledore would try to tell a lie and hide something very important to him, and cause him to instinctively tell the truth instead. With this curse, Dumbledore can’t simply elect to not answer when asked a question pertaining to something important, if he tries to resist, it’ll cause him pain in growing intensity each time he tries. The curse, unlike  _ veritaserum _ , is impervious to  _ occlumency _ , so Dumbledore will not be able to escape it.

 

At lunch on the second day back, Dumbledore did not make an appearance. In fact, he rarely attended meals after that, and when he did he glared at Harry from across the room like Harry was hiding all of his lemon drops in his robes and refusing to give them back. Also, the professors were looking more and  more haggard and concerned for the Headmaster as the days passed. Whatever Dumbledore was letting slip these past few days was unnerving the other staff members and causing the doubt Harry had been anticipating from the very start.

 

Harry wasn’t concerned about Dumbledore letting on about his newfound Izaki nature, Harry had several discreet monitoring spells on the old man that would prevent him from spilling anything that would harm Harry, thanks to Mal. So, even if the fool got it in his head to try and drag his name through the mud, the worst that’ll happen is that he’ll be in immense pain from not telling the truth while also not being  _ able _ to tell the truth. Which, honestly, is no skin off of his back!

 

Knowing now what Dumbledore is capable of and what he’s done in the past to others of his kind, Harry was being extremely careful about who knows what. It is one thing to use what and who you are to frighten and intimidate someone, it is another to gamble away your freedom on the off chance that they will be more afraid of going against you than of having you around.

 

As for the more pressing matter, the one gnawing at Harry’s brain like a half starved dog forced to wait with the food  _ right there— _ yes,  _ the chamber _ . Unlike the chamber of secrets from his second year,  _ this _ chamber actually held something that Harry wanted, that he needed. Harry had told Draco everything about his discovery the moment he had a chance once they were together again. Harry had been practically vibrating with excitement, ready to go down to the chamber that very moment and share his findings with his mate. Draco, on the other hand, was more wary than excited.

 

Able to convince Harry to wait a little longer, they went and consulted with Mal. Much to Harry’s ire, Mal immediately told them to wait a few days so that he could brew an Izaki protective potion for each of them. He said that, in his experience with Izaki magic, it tended to be quite vicious at times and that it can have severe backlashes against anyone who isn’t supposed to use it. The potion would take some time to make, but he said that it would be strong enough to protect them from serious injury to both themselves and their magic.

 

Harry hadn’t been convinced, since Hogwarts had called him to it quite a while before that through Luna and he didn’t believe that Luna would have passed on such a message if there was any mal intent behind it. None the less, he waited anyways. Draco was adamant about getting the protective potion first, and even though the wait was dismembering Harry’s psyche, it wouldn’t harm him to wait a few more days.

 

Then those few days turned into a week when Mal cocked up the potion because he’d gotten most of his ingredients from the school’s supply and one of his ingredients was mislabeled due to the hundreds of kids constantly in and out of the potion’s storage, accidentally mixing up very similar looking ingredients. So, potion botched, he had to start again and Harry’s temper was becoming rather infamous among the other Slytherins.

 

Outside of the common room, Harry was the perfect image of a model student, but inside he was known to throw a few nasty curses and jinxes at underclassmen who tried his patience. His small group of friends found it endlessly amusing and even encouraged it most times, and no matter how unnecessary or cumbersome the curse, those on the other end of it never seemed to get angry or even upset. They usually looked guilty afterwards and apologized for whatever it was that they did. Harry was a bit concerned about how passive they were being about everything that he was doing, but since Pansy, Blaze, and Theo didn’t see anything wrong with it, Harry didn’t say anything.

 

Draco wasn’t the best gage of whether what he’d done had gone too far because every time Harry used his magic to curse someone, Draco either looked like he wanted to be alone with him right then or like Harry had been rolling around with a bunch of kittens and puppies. Though Harry didn’t mind the former in most situations, the latter only irked him more.

 

As for Crabbe and Goyle, well . . . there were obvious reason why he wasn’t asking for their advice.

 

“Harry?” Pansy’s voice wrenched him out of his thoughts and back into the present. His friends sat around him in the overstuffed common room chairs and couches, they were all looking at him expectantly and Harry got the sense that they’d been speaking to him and had only just noticed that his mind had drifted off. Harry flashed a brief apologetic smile at Pansy.

 

“Sorry, Pansy, you know how my mind wanders lately. What were you saying?” Being used to it, Pansy didn’t look upset or insulted that Harry hadn’t been listening, instead she just carried on without even blinking.

 

“The Wizengamot is meeting soon, we wanted to know if you were planning on attending this one with Lucius.”

 

“Ah, yes I suppose that was bound to pop up sooner or later. To be completely honest, I had forgotten about that. We’ll see.” Harry answered shortly, knowing that his answer didn’t satisfy her question at all, and recalling his last meeting with the elder Malfoy.

 

It hadn’t taken Lucius long to send Draco a letter explaining his  _ affiliations _ with the Dark Lord. Harry had been less than thrilled that Lucius had decided to send a letter rather than tell his son in person, it was cowardly in Harry’s opinion, but he’d kept that to himself. Draco was rather upset about the whole matter, finding out that he had put so much effort into freeing his father and mother only to have them running back into the arms of their former master. It wasn’t so much that their allegiances were still with Voldemort, but rather the fact that he’d gone through so much trouble to free them and they hadn’t even told him.

 

Despite what others would like to think, Draco had quite a close and trusting relationship with his parents. Draco cares a lot about them and what they think, it’s one of the main reasons that Harry wanted to make a good impression on them at the Gala. That relationship between them hadn’t been ruined exactly, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been before.

 

Seeing Lucius again after Harry’s last run in with the man would certainly rattle him, which was almost reason enough to do it, but more than that Harry was genuinely interested in the Wizengamot meeting itself.

 

Since it was the weekend and lunch had already finished, Harry soon got up and wandered into his dorm room, not even realizing the he was being followed. The door opened and closed behind him and he turned to find Draco standing near the door. Taking a step forward, Harry was met halfway and soon found himself with his head resting on Draco’s shoulder, staring blindly at the wall to his right as warm breath feathered over his neck and shoulder, gentle arms ensuring that no space was left between them.

 

Only against Draco did Harry’s mind finally quiet, did the ever present headache seem to vanish. Harry relaxed against his lover and sighed deeply.

 

“Why is it that you’re always comforting  _ me?” _ Harry asked absently, sounding only half dismayed by the statement.

 

“Because you’re stronger than me.” Draco answered seriously which left Harry completely confused. Harry was about to accuse Draco of having lost his mind for all the sense that made, but Draco spoke before he could even open his mouth. “You refuse to let anyone else support you, so you only let me comfort you. Because I’m the only one, it feels like it happens a lot.” Draco’s voice in his ear was so soft, so soothing, Harry barely heard him.

Harry’s Izaki side practically preened at being called strong by his mate and it didn’t take much of Draco’s blissful hands rubbing circles into his back to coax Harry into dropping his human glamour’s. Fabric was ripped and stretched by insistent wings and a restless tail hung and swayed over the back of his trousers. In turn, Draco dropped his glamour’s as well and great pearlescent white wings stretched near Harry’s face. Harry reached out and ran his hand down the inside of one of Draco’s off white wings, watching them shudder a little under his hand and reveling in the indescribably soft texture. It still surprised Harry how beautiful Draco’s true features were. He mostly saw Draco in human form, which was breathtaking on its own, but every time he saw his Izaki form, it floored him how different yet similar they were.

 

Harry moved his hand away from the wing to Draco’s collar, undoing the first few buttons so he could pull the collar far enough away to expose the perfect ring of teeth mark-shaped scars. Harry ghosted his fingertips over the mark and licked his lips when Draco turned his head to the side, eyes closed and breath heavy as a baritone rumble rolled and tumbled in his throat. Harry leaned in and opened his mouth, a warm pink tongue peeking out from between plump rosy lips, his tongue pressed against the mark he’d made a week prior and his eyes slid shut by their own volition as sweet rich colors bloomed behind his eyes.

 

Just as Draco had opened his mouth and released a shuddering moan, the door burst open and someone had stopped halfway through calling one of their names when they froze. Recognizing the voice instantly, Harry opened his eyes slowly and glared at Mal with enough venom to melt flesh right off of bone. Mal’s hands shot up as if to protect himself from Harry’s glare and he took an immediate step back to close the door behind him. When the couple pulled apart from their no longer private and intimate moment, the look Draco gave Mal was even worse than Harry’s. Harry would have felt bad for anyone on the other end of such a look, but not when he was just as angry as Draco at being interrupted.

 

Mal was lucky really, if he’d arrived while they we doing  _ more _ than just heavy touching and light kissing, Mal would most definitely have lost a hand or two. If they had been in the throes of passion when he’d burst in, Nearly Headless Nick would’ve gained a friend.

 

“Sorry fellas! Would’ve knocked but I was in a bit of a hurry. The potion, it’s ready.” And just like that, Harry completely forgot what he’d been doing moments before and looked at Mal expectantly. Mal fished around in his red and black robes for a while until his hand slipped into an inner pocket and he smiled triumphantly.

 

 

That would explain why Mal’s hair was loose and in complete disarray, and why his clothes were rumpled and Harry was sure that he’d seen Mal wearing them yesterday. In any other situation, Mal would have rather cut off his own hand than be seen in such a state.

 

Now, in both Harry and Draco’s hands were little glass vials containing pale green potion with swirling specks of red. Uncorking the vial, a thick sugary sweet smell plumed up from the lip and curled in Harry’s nose, making it itch a little. Not wanting to dwell on what an Izaki potion might taste like, Harry downed the contents of the vial in one go and tried not to cough when it scraped down his throat like firewhiskey and then burned in his stomach for a few moments. Once it was down, Harry felt like chilled syrup was being poured over his skin, coating everything.

 

Once Harry felt thoroughly unpleasant and completely covered, he turned to the charmed window and dowsed the light streaming in. The room was pitch black for only a moment before the floor began to glow like he’d remembered it doing the first time. It wasn’t necessary to do so now that he knew where the entrance was, but he wanted to show Draco the beautiful display.

 

Once down in the chamber again, Harry approached the still well of unlit black water and knelt down in front of it with his knees pressed against the stone.  Draco knelt down beside him and took his hand firmly. Harry turned and found molten silver eyes boring into him, chasing away his thoughts and capturing all of his attention.

 

“I’ll be right here the whole time, if something happens and you want me to pull you away, just squeeze my hand and I’ll do it.” He stated sternly. Harry heard Mal sitting down on his other side but didn’t look at him. Harry leaned in to press a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips, then turned back to the water in front of him while his hand was still gripped in Draco’s.

 

Harry slowly moved his free hand over the water, hovering several inches above the smooth dark surface like bait, waiting for something to come bursting out of the water and take his whole arm back into the depths with it. Shaking off the last traces of fear that were curling in his belly, Harry slipped his hand into the water. It was cold, uninterrupted for decades before Harry had arrived. Harry felt no movement in the water, no pulse of magic or pull of  _ legilimency _ . Taking a deep breath, Harry cleared his mind of all thought and pulled up only one thing to focus all of his attention on.  _ Gail. _

 

Harry must have been sitting there for at least ten minutes, fingers tingling from the frigid water and mind obsessing over the faint memory of the voice in his head and only a first name. Harry began to fear that it wouldn’t be enough to find Gail, when everything suddenly changed. It started with his whole body relaxing without his consent, feeling like he was on the brink of sleep. Then all the lights in the room flickered and dimmed as the cold seemed to creep up his arm. Once the water had reached his elbow, Harry felt like he was being apparated, portkeyed, and flooed all at the same time yet staying still as he felt Draco’s hand around his and the stone floor under his shins grounding him in the stone chamber.

 

When the strange traveling sensation and darkness around his vision faded, he was no longer kneeling in the stone chamber. He was standing in a small grey room that looked like it belonged in a maximum security penitentiary for the criminally insane. A small space with only enough room for one person to move about, four bare grey walls with a single blurry steel plate to serve as a mirror bolted to the wall, a metal toilet and small sink. Harry turned away from the large, windowless metal door he’d been facing and found that he was not alone in the room. On a metal slab that looked like a morbid mockery of a bed, was a man.

 

He was sitting with his back against the painted cement and one leg propped up on the metal bed. He looked to be no older than thirty, brown hair cut short and choppy, like it had been cut with a butter knife. He wore a threadbare grey uniform with no shoes or socks to protect against the horrid draft that swept through the room from Merlin knows where. There was stubble on his face that almost bordered on being considered a beard and a few light colored scars slashed through the stubble to mark where hair will never grow again. The man suddenly lifted his head and huffed a humorless laugh before turning his dark brown eyes on Harry.

 

“Bravo kid, I never thought I’d see you again if it didn’t involve you getting yourself caught and locked up as well.” Gail said, Harry recognizing his voice instantly. Harry scrutinized his surroundings again at Gail’s words.

“This is Terra di Morte.” It was a statement, not a question, but still Gail nodded. Harry felt his gut clench at the implications. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that with the reputation it had garnered among Izaki on the outside, it wouldn’t be a field full of daisies, but with it being described as a ‘habitat’ he figured that it would have at least been decent living conditions. But  _ this? _ Having to spend the rest of his life—hundreds of years—in a little grey room would drive him into insanity.

 

“The Hogwarts  _ obisculous _ , you must have found that dusty old thing if you’re here now.” Gail sounded bored, but there was a small up note in his tone that sounded dangerously close to hope.

 

“Is that what it’s called? Then yes, I suppose I have found it. I’ve been trying to contact you since my inheritance but without luck.” Harry leaned against the wall opposite Gail, crossing his arms over his chest. It was strange, he could feel the small room around him like he was really there, with Gail, yet at the same time he felt Draco and the chamber under his room. It was like being in two places at once, or dreaming while you’re still awake and aware of your surroundings.

 

“Ah yes, you wizards call it  _ legilimency _ , I’m sure you’ve been trying to use that to contact me but there’s no way that it would work. Our chat during your inheritance was a one time thing. You see, when an Izaki goes through an inheritance or awakening, their magic is both potent and unprotected. It makes it easy for one of our kind to find them and communicate. After that, it is impossible to locate the new Izaki using other Izaki, it is a form of evolutionary protection. The humans used to try to use captured Izaki as bloodhounds to locate other Izaki on the outside so we evolved to survive. The humans don’t know that we can communicate for that short period of time, so we use it to warn the young Izaki and perhaps help them a little before they go off into the world.” Gail’s face transformed into a grim expression and he looked away from Harry.

 

Obviously, Gail was very bitter about the whole thing, Harry can understand why. If he had to tell the young Izaki that their very existence put them in extreme danger but there was nothing he could do to help them, he would feel pretty bitter as well.

 

“I don’t understand,  _ how _ are they able to contain all of you? Not to sound egotistical or anything, but wouldn’t it be easy to take down the human guards and escape?” Harry asked, knowing it couldn’t have been that simple, but not knowing what the reasons were. Gail didn’t laugh at the question or tell him it was a stupid thing to ask, he simply got up from his metal bed, walked over to the door and picked up a plastic tray covered in food that had been sitting on the floor that Harry hadn’t notice before that moment. The food looked like the stereotypical prison slop you’d see in movies. Setting the tray on the ‘bed’, Gail picked up the small cup of water and held it up next to Harry’s face.

 

“Go on, take a whiff,” Harry hesitated for a moment, but after scrutinizing the cup for a solid minute, leaned in and inhaled. At first Harry didn’t smell anything, but then the air inside Harry’s nose seemed to change, becoming hot and burning the smell of honey and hyacinth into the walls of his throat. Harry jerked back and covered his nose as his head swam, giving Gail a wide-eyed searching look. Gail set down the water with a deep sigh and sat back down.

 

“What you’re smelling is called Jade Vine. It’s extracted from a rare plant that is completely harmless to humans, but is quite poisonous to us. It lowers the magical and physical defenses of the body when given in low doses, making it very useful in Izaki healing and medicine. Because it was used so commonly in Izaki medical practices, the humans caught on quite easily to it and turned it into a weapon against us.” Gail explained, glaring at the tray beside him.

 

“That’s how the humans were able to take down the Izaki in the first place, they poisoned them.” Harry realized, thinking back to the story he’d read about entire kingdoms being poisoned and enslaved.

 

“Exactly, with jade vine in our systems we’re no stronger or magically inclined than muggles. Well, perhaps a bit more than that since we can still use very small spells to help us get through our lives. They put it in the food and water, if we refused to eat it, they pump it through the vents and force the food down our throats. We poison ourselves and in exchange they let us out a few times a week to see other Izaki. We are social creatures, Harry, being cut off from our kind, our  _ mates _ , it’s enough to keep most of us in line.

 

“The guards don’t tell us anything, so everything we know about the world on the other side of these walls comes from those that are brought in from the outside, captured. You’re the first Izaki to use an  _ obisculous _ to contact someone from this compound in over fifty years, if you have easy access to it then you can perhaps give us an update on the world beyond this place. The last Izaki brought here managed to get their hands on a knife on their way in and kicked it, that was over twenty years ago. We’re a little behind on the happenings of that world as you can imagine.” There it was again, that small hopeful ring in his voice that pained Harry to hear. This . . . this is much worse than he’d imagined.

 

Harry shifted into a more relaxed position on the wall and began to explain some of the things Gail had missed, giving him a brief overview and hoping it would be enough when he passed it on to the others. Harry told him about the first wizarding war, of which he already knew bits and pieces of through rumors and overheard conversations from the guards. He talked about his parents and Voldemort’s involvement in their deaths. Harry even explained Voldemort’s return and the small battles they’ve had over the years while attending Hogwarts.

 

All of that were things that he’d explained a thousand times over, so much so that he felt mainly disconnected from them.  _ After _ the inheritance, though, that was a little bit harder to talk about, everyone knew this and that about his seventh year, but the only ones who knew the full story was Draco, Severus, and perhaps Mal. All of which he trusted and had gotten to know over time. Gail was still a stranger and revealing anything about himself to a stranger felt wrong and too sudden.

 

“Wait,” Gail interrupted Harry as he was explaining the most recent confrontation with Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry was kind of shocked by how much he was sharing, he’d kind of just gotten lost in unloading everything on someone who could never tell anyone at Hogwarts or the Wizarding world in general. Not if what he said is true and the guards don’t know about their secret communication to the outside world. That was one big ‘if’ though. “You said that you pulled something black and smoky out of this wizard and that you saw a battle scene and death?” Gail barely waited to see Harry nod before he shot up and began pacing the length of the small room, muttering to himself and working his thumb nail between his teeth.

 

“This isn’t good.” Gail finally spoke to more than just himself. His face was twisted in worry and determination. “This means they’re back. I don’t know how came back, or if they’d ever really left, but if that wizard you mentioned earlier has had his hands on parts of one all this time, it can’t be good.” Gail sunk back down onto the metal slab like his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.

 

“’They’ who?” Harry was afraid that he already knew the answer, had known since the moment he’d touched whatever Dumbledore had poured into Voldemort’s head, but there was so little information on them he needed to know more. Gail didn’t meet Harry’s eyes when he spoke, like he felt guilty for being the one to break it to him.

 

“They’re referred to as ‘the Great Evil’ in our histories, but I’ve spent centuries gathering information on them, hoping to be able to continue our history even if all of our books are burned. I never thought I would need it like this. In truth, they are our counterparts. They say that our first ancestors were twin boys from the same womb, born no more good or evil than the other. They grew up and simply embodied different ambitions, one pursued power and the other chaos. Together they held the world in their palms, both destruction and creation. But such a volatile relationship was destined to force them apart. When it finally broke, war ensued and all of their descendants were fated to fight against each other until one defeated the other. They are called the  _ Fassir,  _ in our native language it means ‘chaos’. We are not allowed to speak our native language here, nor can we worship our gods, or pass on our histories, but even with the consequences, we manage to get around such things.”

 

“So are you saying that Dumbledore is going to turn Voldemort  _ into _ one of these Fassir’s?” Harry stood a little more rigidly as the severity of the situation set in for him.

 

“No, not exactly. You can’t create a Fassir, they have to be born like that, the same as us. Though, he will have many of the same gifts intermingled with his  wizarding gifts. It will make him a nearly unbeatable opponent against humans, but certainly manageable for our kind. He is not what we need to worry about, it’s the actual Fassir that is the problem. If they’ve been around this whole time, they wouldn’t have lived hidden away, laying low and barely surviving. They wouldn’t be able to resist causing chaos and destruction. If they are truly out there, they will be hidden in plain sight, feeding off of the pandemonium they ensue.” Gail’s jaw clenched tightly and his fingers were white where he had them laced together between his parted knees.

 

“You don’t think . . .” Harry trailed off, praying to whatever Izaki gods might be out there that he was wrong. “Dumbledore?” Harry’s voice was too high to sound unconcerned. Everything in his body rebelled against the idea, but he had to ask. Gail finally met his searching gaze and gave him a pitying look, trying to soften his expression for Harry’s benefit.

 

“No, as vile as that human sounds, he’s just that—human. He’s a moronic greedy human playing with something he will have no hopes of ever controlling or using to his advantage. If he had continued giving Voldemort Fassir cells, the resulting creature would have eventually turned on him and would have taken pleasure from slowly and agonizingly killing him.” Gail answered confidently, reassuring Harry.

 

“He wouldn’t be the only one.” Harry mutter under his breath, Gail gave him a probing look for a long moment, then shook his head and huffed a shallow laugh, agreeing with Harry.

 

“Indeed. . . Anyways, I need to inform the Elders of this as soon as I can, but it will take a while until I can safely reach them and deliver this news privately. In the meantime . . . I hate to ask you of this Harry—but from the sounds of it, you were already inclined before we talked—I need you find a way to get us out of here. If they’re back, the world is already too close to burning, we need all the help we can get to stop them. I don’t advise you to try to gather others like us outside, they will notice that much raw magic in one place, magical school or not—it isn’t smart. We’ll talk a few days from now, I should be able to talk with them by then and we can talk more about what needs to be done.” Harry nodded along with each thing that Gail said, already putting together skeletal plans in his mind to develop later when he was alone again.

 

“These ‘elders’ I’ve heard them mentioned before by other Izaki. What are they exactly?” Harry asked, thinking back to the memory of the young Izaki in the secret chamber, demanding that he speak to the elders to whoever he’d connected to. They had thought that the elders might be able to help them in that situation, so whoever they are, they must be important. Understanding dawned on Gail’s face and he seemed relieved to be able to move on from the world crushing discovery that the evil he had been hardwired through his DNA to kill and maim was back from the grave and his people were locked away where they could do nothing about it.

 

“In the past, while we were still free and living without human intervention, we had kings who were the authoritative and legislative rulers of our lands, the same as kings in human society. Along with the kings, though, there was another group of Izaki that were held in the same regard. They are called the Elders, a group of especially gifted Izaki that were said to have been blessed by the gods. They were our moral and spiritual guides as well as our ultimate protectors. They were gifts that usually ran through bloodlines―namely the nobles. If the people looked to the kings for guidance, it was the elders that the kings looked to. They always kept themselves secluded from the rest of the kingdom, which is why they avoided being seen as a threat to the humans that enslaved us, allowing them to live when most of our nobility was slaughtered.

 

“The humans are unaware of their significance to us, so their existence has to be hidden within Terra di Morte. They were said to have been closer to the gods than other Izaki because of the abilities they received. Always different for each elder, but they received gifts like prophetic visions, telepathy stronger than any other form on earth, abnormal physical abilities, and they all seemed to share the trait of being able to guide others onto the right path and communicate with the gods. They’re intuition is what kept our species alive all these years. Without a monarch, they are our leaders, our strength, and our guidance.” Gail explained, a passion in his voice that led Harry to the conclusion that these elders were very dear to all of them.

 

“Right . . . so you’re going to talk to these elders, get some advice on the baddies and while you’re doing that I just―oh, I don’t know―figure out how to do what no one has been able to do in centuries! Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but I’m going to need help with this. I may have experienced more bollocks in my short life than most have in their centuries, but that doesn’t make me an expert breaking into places I’ve never even  _ seen _ before. So, I’m going to come back tomorrow, we’re going to have a chat about what you know about this place, and only  _ then _ can I start thinking about breaking you out of here.” Harry deadpanned, none too pleased that Gail was about to do the one thing Harry hated most―expect Harry to solve all of their problems on his own. Even if he wanted to, this would have to be a joint effort.

 

* * *

 

Chapter will be continued next weekend . . .

  
  



	10. Chapter Ten: Camaraderie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I do plan on posting another chapter this weekend, but I'm not sure how long it will be or if it'll be on time.
> 
> I really appreciate all of your guy's support, comments, and sticking by me even though I'm being a slow poke. I wish I could write more often, but I've become very busy lately. I will try to stick to posting every Sunday, but sometimes I might be a day or so late. Please bare with me, it really means so much to me that you guys have stuck with it thus far. All I want is to make good content for you all. That being said, please enjoy this little chapter a bit early!
> 
> Love you all! Please talk to me! This writer absolutely loves hearing from you all! It makes my day like nothing else!

  
Coming out of the _obisculous_ trance felt about the same as waking up after a tumble down the side of a mountain, then being hit by a train, with a dash of hungover-migraine injected straight into the brain. At least, that’s the best that Harry could rationalize the pain he felt when he woke up on his back, next to the _obisculous_ while Draco knelt over him with wide wild eyes, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his forehead and breathing heavily. At first, Harry barely noticed the cramping in his chest along with the other pain, but after a while the need to breathe had him coughing violently and sucking in large breaths. Harry tried to sit up, but Draco’s hand kept him firmly pressed into the cool stone. When the coughing subsided enough for Harry to talk, he hoarsely asked what had happened. Before Draco answered, he shot Mal a deprecating look. Harry followed his gaze and found Mal standing near the wall looking like a kicked sodden puppy.

 

“It—it’s my fault.” Mal started, not meeting Harry’s eyes as he fidgeted. Harry raised a brow and waited for him to elaborate. “The potion I made contained Mungsford Root. It’s a common potion ingredient so I didn’t think much of it, even with high levels of legilimency it’s harmless. Usually legilimency is only auditory and visual, I was counting on whatever kind of communication that thing uses, that it wouldn’t use such powerful legilimency, but I could feel your consciousness traveling to another place. That much legilimency—which, might I add is practically unheard of—had an adverse reaction with the Mungsford Root and stopped your heart when you ended the spell. It wasn’t the magic from the _obisculous_ that almost killed you . . . it was _my_ potion. I’m sorry, Harry.” At the end Mal seemed to fight up the nerve to be able to look at Harry again, but Harry only held his gaze for a moment before turning to look at Draco.

 

“You _resuscitated_ me?” Harry sounded more awed than anything else, though the effect was a bit twisted with the hoarse voice. That did account for the focus of Harry’s pain being in his chest. Chest compressions break ribs all the time, add in to the fact that they were performed by a frenzied Izaki and you get a nice little cocktail of “ _holy shit this hurts_!”

 

“For nearly half an hour. . .” Draco’s voice was weak and exhausted. Harry reached up—even though the muscles in his arm dully throbbed like he’d been holding something heavy above his head for hours—and brushed his thumb over Draco’s cheek, wiping away moisture that looked suspiciously close to a tear, though for Draco’s sake, Harry dismissed it as a bit of sweat.

 

"Look, Harry I—” Mal began but was interrupted by Draco, who didn’t even look up at Mal when he spoke.

 

“ _Leave_ , you’ve done enough.” Draco’s venomous tone made Mal flinch in the corner of Harry’s eye. He felt sympathetic toward the Izaki and would be confronting him later to make sure that he knew that he was forgiven, but for now Harry couldn’t think about much more than telling Draco about what had happened in the _obisculous_.

 

By the time Harry had managed to sit up—with the help of Draco—Mal was gone and they were alone. Harry let Draco help him back up the stairs—though that’s where it stopped, Harry refused to let Draco carry him up the stairs like a child—because of the immense soreness over his entire body. Harry wasn’t sure if it was from the Mungsford Root, or if Draco had tried shocking his heart like those crash panels in the muggle world, but that wouldn’t account for the soreness of his _entire_ body, so it must be the former.

 

Once back up in Harry’s room, Draco helped him limp over to the bed and sit down, then pulled his desk chair up close to the side of the bed so that Harry could stretch out and relax. Harry launched into the retelling of what he’d experienced in the _obisculous_ since Draco had only gotten vague mumbles from him while he was talking to Gail. Not exactly the clear one-sided conversation he’d witnessed in the memory, but perhaps that would come with time and practice. After he’d finished, Harry asked Draco what he thought they should do next.

 

“Well, we don’t know much about the place, so until you can talk to Gail more about that, the only thing we really _can_ do is prepare.” Draco paused, looked around like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t fully sure if he should. Harry waited until Draco finally met his gaze again. When he did, Draco looked decided about something. “I think we should tell the others.” Was all he said, but for all the weight behind those words, they impacted Harry quite effectively.

 

Draco watched blank-faced as Harry’s face morphed from confusion into incredulity.

 

“What? Draco, we can’t bring them with us, they’re only wizards. They know nothing of this world!” Harry sat up more fully when he spoke, despite the protest of his ribs.

 

“So are the guards. Look, I know you’re very protective of your friends, but—” Harry cut Draco off with a scoff.

 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean? Yes, I care about whether they come back in body bags or not, but that doesn’t mean that I’d compromise what we’re trying to achieve because of it. I won’t be able to babysit a bunch of children. I’m not being irrational about this, Draco. They’re wizards, yes, but they’re also very young. If you’re implying that I’d be concerned enough to protect them the whole time and stay away from any danger then you—”

 

“You _know_ that I wasn’t implying that. They may be young, but so are we. They can be trained, aided in defensive spells, but we are also talking about the same group of students that have been parading around battle fields since first year. You know better than I do that those Gryffindors and Slytherins have plenty of experience dealing with adult wizards. Plus, it would be better to have several people with us that can’t be poisoned by Jade Vine, which I’m sure they have their own personal gardens there teeming with the stuff.” Draco was firm in his argument, not budging in the slightest as he held Harry’s glare.

 

Draco was rarely so assertive with Harry, but he’d be lying if he said it truly upset him. In all honesty, Harry had kind of missed the give and pull that they sometimes had in their earlier Hogwarts years. No matter how many inheritances Harry went through, his stubbornness would always be a part of him, and he needed to know that Draco wouldn’t just melt to his will on every little thing. As much as Harry enjoyed the power he held over Draco sometimes, he needed to be challenged as well. He isn’t arrogant enough to think that he’ll always be right, and he needs Draco to be able to keep him from making astronomical mistakes. Still. . .

 

“You’re sure that they’ll be safe? You really believe that they can protect themselves?” Harry asked skeptically. More than just having to bring along his schoolmates, Harry was reasonably wary of the thought of telling the people he’d been surrounded by for the past couple of months about what he gets up to in the dead of night. It’s one thing to tell friends that you’ve been doing something illegal, it’s another to tell them you _are_ _something_ _illegal_.

 

“With a bit of practice they’ll be able to effectively protect themselves, also, I think it would be wise to bring Severus as well.” Draco answered, a smirk on his lips. Harry snorted softly and shook his head, some of the tension leaving his body as he did so.

 

“Oh I’m sure he’ll just _love_ that! Can I please be the one to tell him?” Harry’s sarcasm pulled a wider smile from Draco’s usually composed face. Leaving no evidence of the events that had taken place not long before. Draco stood from his chair and came to sit on the edge of the bed, turned to face Harry.

 

“You agree then? I don’t want this to turn into more than it is, but I also think that this is the best way to go about this.” Draco searched Harry’s face, looking for a sign of resentment or anger, but he found none.

 

“I know, and I also know that you’re right. I don’t like it much, but they would be helpful. I suppose we should tell them soon, then.” Harry sighed deeply and leaned fully back on the pillows. “The sooner we get this done the sooner that we can begin moving forward. You round up the ones you think would do well and meet me in the room of requirement—no Crabbe or Goyle, though, we need wit and stealth, not brute force.” Harry dismissed the two that still gave him confused and slightly resentful looks when Draco wasn’t around. Draco could surround himself with anyone he liked, but with a task as sensitive as this one, Harry wasn’t taking any chances on the pair.

 

“ _After_ you rest!” Draco shot him a chastising look and Harry rolled his eyes again.

 

“It’s the Room of Requirement for Merlin’s sake! If I want to sit down I’ll have plenty of options available to me. I’m not fragile, Draco, I already feel half way to normal. It’s not like talking really takes all that much energy anyways. Stop coddling me and go gather the others, we’ve got work to do.”

 

֎

 

Hermione barely gave Malfoy a second glance when he walked into the library, she’d seen him slip in and out plenty of times to get books for his assignments. As evil as he’d seemed throughout the years, the Slytherin was a devil when it came to his studies, it seemed. He never lost a shred of composure in the face of their OWL’s, never fidgeted or looked even slightly perturbed when taking tests. The only time he seemed to react to anything academic was when he did exceptionally well on a test or paper that everyone else did horrible on, or whenever Harry succeeded at _anything_. It was rather sweet in Hermione’s opinion, the way Draco openly adored Harry. It was subtle, yet for anyone who looked close enough at the times when they were together and when they were apart, the difference was blatant.

 

However, Hermione _did_ look up again when her peripheral vision was filled with sleek black school robes and white blonde hair. Draco stood next to her table, waiting to gain her full attention, but apparently could not be bothered to put any effort into catching it. She closed her book and gave him her full attention, trying not to be effected by how dauntingly tall the Slytherin was. It had been a shock to the system to see Harry at the beginning of the school year, just months previous he’d been an inch or so shorter than her, then he shows up at Kings Cross at the astonishing height of six feet—about the same as Ron—and looking like he’d been incubating all summer to come out as some sort of super model! It was rather unfair from her perspective.

 

“Follow me,” is all that Draco said, jarring her from her thoughts, before quickly striding out of the library on long and elegant legs. Hermione scrambled to shove her books back into her bag so that she could catch up to Draco before he disappeared completely. She received a blistering glare from Madam Pince for running through the library, but Hermione couldn’t waste any time on trying to fruitlessly regain the librarian’s approval, she had a Malfoy to catch!

 

Hermione finally caught up with Draco at the stairs, but then came the climb. Her legs were burning and she had one hand gripping the railing while the other gripped the top of her thigh—which was on the verge of cramping—by the time they reached the seventh floor. Had the snake _not_ been dating her best friend, she probably would have ignored him in favor of finishing her charms homework, but the fact that Harry wasn’t with him and he seemed to have places to be, she figured it would be best to play along for the moment.

 

They traveled through several hallways that were suspiciously familiar, before entering a corridor already full of people. Hermione slowed her steps as she took in the others milling around and leaning against walls. There was Neville, Luna, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. They all seemed like they had been waiting there for a while, but knew just as much as she did about why they were there. Hermione quickly joined Neville against the wall and flashed Luna a friendly smile as she avoided looking too hard at the Slytherins. She knew that Harry spent a lot of time with these people, so she should try to at least try to make nice with them, but she’d just had too much experience with blood-purity bollocks from Slytherins to just forgive and forget.

 

Draco walked up to a black wooden door that they were all loosely gathered around and opened the door. Hermione was one of the last to enter, but when she did, she realized that she’d just entered the room of requirement. For a split second, she wanted to feel shock and apprehension about Draco knowing how to find the room so easily and sharing it with his friends, but then she spotted Harry sitting on a black leather couch facing them with a large fireplace roaring behind it.

 

Harry was smiling at them and the heat from the fire had brought a bit of pink to his cheeks, but Hermione could almost immediately tell that there was something off with him. He looked more tired than usual and paler despite the warm lighting on the edges of his face. Hermione knew that something must have happened, but she wouldn’t ask him in front of the others, when they were alone perhaps.

 

The room was rather simple, other than the couch and fireplace, there were several couches and chairs around the room for leisurely sitting, large Persian rugs here and there over dark wood floors, and a small table in front of Harry that held a delicate china set. Spreading out a bit, they all stood in front of Harry and watched as Draco went to stand next to where Harry sat, sipping his tea with his slender legs crossed over in a relaxed yet poised fashion. If Hermione hadn’t known Harry before this moment, all she would have seen was a young pureblood couple about to tell them that they had just bought all the land their family owned and would be using it to build their empire.

 

"Hello, I'm sure you're all wondering why Draco brought you here today. You are here because Draco and I think very highly of you, we trust you and there is something that we need your help with. Before I get into details, I would like to warn you; the task I am about to ask of you is dangerous. It is quite possible that anyone of you could die, we are not going to have the safety net of Hogwarts, if you decide to stay you are risking far more than your house points. If you do not wish to take such a risk, I ask that you please leave before I begin explaining everything, after I start explaining no one will be able to opt out without being obliviated. I will take no offense, so please think carefully before deciding.” Harry’s voice rang out around them, calm and powerful.

 

The group hesitated, looking around at each other to see if anyone would actually leave. When a full minute passed and not a single person so much as looked at the door, Hermione found herself stunned by the devotion on the Slytherins faces. She’d seen that look directed at Harry so many times from Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs—even from several adults—but never Slytherins. Hermione had just always figured that Slytherins were only loyal to themselves, how easy it was to forget that they were all just students when it came down to it, different houses doesn’t mean they were a whole different species.

 

“Good! Then I shall begin by disclosing something to you that Draco and I have kept secret since this summer. This secret . . . it is of the _utmost importance_ that nobody outside of those who are here today ever hear of this, I am not exaggerating when I say that our very lives depend on it.” Harry’s voice changed from light and excited to severe and chilling in a matter of moments. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees in the room as Harry slowly set down his tea and caught them in an _Avada Kedavra_ gaze. When he finally spoke, ice slowly bled into their veins and nobody dared move.

 

“Over the summer Draco and I received more than independence for our birthdays. We received creature inheritances as well,” Hermione sucked in a quick breath and that little part of her brain with an insatiable curiosity reared its head. “Both of us received the rare species inheritance of a creature called an Izaki. For those of you who don’t know what an Izaki is, they are an ancient species that was enslaved and persecuted by magical humans for centuries upon centuries because they couldn’t control the Izaki, so the only other option was to fear them. At this moment, 98% of all Izaki are living in labor camps and death camps disguised as ‘facilitated living areas’.

 

“We have recently discovered at a very real danger is on the horizon, not just for Izaki but for the rest of the world as well. I’ve managed to make contact with someone within one of the compounds and it became very clear that they need to be retrieved immediately. What we are asking of you, is if you will join us when we go to free our people. We will be training you first, of course, putting your defensive spells back into practice. Now, will you stand with us?” Before any of the Slytherins or Gryffindors could even open their mouths to answer, a melodic twinkle of laughter sounded from the far right side of the room and everyone turned their gaze on the grinning Ravenclaw.

 

“Of course we will Harry! Silly boys always ask such silly questions. Now, can we see them?” Luna leaned forward excitedly, eyes flitting between Harry and Draco expectantly. Harry raised a black brow at his friend’s quickness to speak on everyone else’s behalf.

 

“See what?” Harry indulged Luna, knowing that she wouldn’t settle until her curiosity was sated.

 

“Your wings, of course!” Luna exclaimed with masterful casualness that Harry had always admired. A few people sputtered and coughed in the small group at the reminder that creature inheritances meant that they were no longer human and perhaps what they were seeing was not what they truly looked like anymore.

 

Draco slipped Harry a disparaged look, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop his lover from indulging even if it wasn’t particularly a good idea.

 

Harry ignored his mate and stood with a flourish of dark robes and finesse. Perhaps he was becoming a little bit too much like Draco, enjoying the thought of a little chaos and intimidation. No one looked much at ease from the grin that appeared on Harry’s face, no one but Luna of course. With a single pause to allow the tension to mount in the air around him, Harry dropped his glamour’s all at once. Harry had expected shock, fear, and apprehension, but that was not what he saw when he took in the faces of his classmates, it was _awe_. Even the eloquent purebloods that prided themselves on their refined mannerisms seemed to lean in closer, eyes glazed over and moths hanging open slightly. Harry turned to Draco, confusion twisting his brows closer together. Draco huffed a condescending yet endeared laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Really Harry, how can you be surprised? Your allure could rival a Veela’s.” Draco’s sinful gaze ran up and down Harry’s body so slowly it made him blush, despite all that they’ve done. Harry sank back down onto his couch with a frown on his unsullied lips. He narrowed his eyes at his entranced friends. His bright green eyes glittering and glowing from the darkened depths of his sockets, the shadow carving a devastating angelic and wicked beauty out of porcelain skin. Obsidian wings flicked irritably behind him almost as a deadly reminder of what he is.

 

“Well that just won’t do.” Killing curse green eyes landed on Draco, sending blissful shivers up his back. “What fun is being alluring if you’re not also equally frightening?” The couple shared a smile as the others seemed to recuperate and get a hold of themselves.

 

 _It will be interesting to see how these next few weeks play out_. Harry thought to himself as each of his friends declared that they would be right beside him, no matter what the danger. _Very interesting. . ._

 


	11. Chapter Eleven: Wizengamot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual. Spring break is coming up so I'm hoping to be able to sit down and just write! Thank you all for sticking with me so far! I appreciate every single one of you and I hope you all have a good day/night and enjoy this chapter!

 

For the remainder of the day Harry and Draco oversaw their group as they each displayed what they could do so that they could determine what kind of work they had ahead of them. As Harry had expected, they were all around—if not slightly above—where an average seventh year Hogwarts student would be. But that included  _ their _ seventh year, comparing them to the same students who are getting their education in the middle of a war. A normal seventh year student from this time period would know about the same amount of defensive magic as the average adult wizard. While they would still need a lot of training before Harry felt comfortable enough with them joining them on this excursion, they were still leaps and bounds ahead of where they should be for their age.

Harry was relieved to find that they were as advanced as they were so that it wouldn’t be a complete overhaul trying to prepare them, but he also felt a niggling worry that refused to dissipate in his mind. Even with all of the hours they could put into training, there was no telling when they needed to be ready and Harry didn’t like the amount of time it would take just to get them up to a level that he felt was adequate. Taking into consideration all of their classes and other duties, they wouldn’t be ready until spring! So as soon as he filled Draco in on what he had planned he pulled Hermione aside.

 

After Hermione’s third year, the time turner that McGonagall had given her was returned after she decided to drop the extra classes. Because it was something in McGonagall’s possession before she’d given it to Hermione and not something she’d received from the Ministry specifically for her, there was a very good chance that their professor still had it. So, all Hermione had to do was tell McGonagall something along the lines of not having enough time to keep up with her school work, study for NEWT’s,  _ and _ working on her side organizations such as SPEW for her house elves and other nonsense. Harry was rather surprised when Hermione didn’t immediately shoot the idea down; in fact, she didn’t seem at all perturbed with knowing she would have to lie to her head of house.

 

Harry felt an unfamiliar satisfaction knowing that Hermione was already so loyal to him. It was only recently that their relationship had gone from ‘nonexistent’ to ‘repairing itself’. The friend he had thought he’d lost to the chaos that was his life. The friend that saw the real him and still  _ cared _ . It’ll never be the same as before— _ he didn’t  _ want _ it to be the same as before— _ what they had now, though, he wasn’t sure exactly where either of them stood in regards to each other, but he liked the electric warmth that shot through his limbs because of it. Actually, he felt similar sensations when the others looked at him; expressions a fluid mix of respect and loyalty and determination.

 

Months ago, Harry never would have thought he would receive such looks, and not have it be because of his title as the defeater of Voldemort. He wanted to hold on to them, to never let them turn away and look somewhere else. For the first time, Harry felt possessive about something. It’s not the same as being protective, no, he knew  _ exactly _ what that felt like and he can separate his protectiveness for his friends from this other feeling. If he were  _ ‘protective’ _ of this look, he would do anything to keep it—even change who he is—but being  _ ‘possessive’ _ of it means that he won’t allow it to slip out of his grasp without changing who he is.

 

As Hermione sought out McGonagall for the time turner, Draco gathered the others to explain their plan. Because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day to give them all enough training, they will simply have to  _ make _ enough hours. Each of them will get individual one-on-one training sessions using the time turner throughout the week. Some in the group looked a little uneasy with hearing how hard they plan on working everybody, but when Draco let out a low agitated growl they all snapped back into blank or determined expressions.

 

With the help of Mal and working non-stop on the weekends, their time line would be cut into a fraction of their original estimate. Draco was still a bit miffed with Mal about the Mungsford Root, but Harry assured Mal that Draco knew it was an accident and would settle down when he felt like Mal had suffered enough. Mal quickly brushed it off, declaring that Draco had every right to tear him a new one for it, claiming that others had been killed for doing far less to an Izaki’s mate. 

 

Harry had this little chat with Mal before dinner, away from the prying eyes and ears of a certain narked Izaki. After that, Harry joined the others for dinner. Everyone seemed knackered, but at the same time resolute in knowing that they were doing something worthwhile.

 

֎

 

Sleep is meant to be foggy—in and out of coherent scenes that frayed, aged, and faded as soon as they were occurring. That’s how Harry knew that this dream was of no normal variety. It was too vivid, too crisp and razor sharp against each of his five senses. He stood in a room. Everything darkened by the midway point between dusk and full-fledged night. Dusty old floor boards beneath his bare feet that sagged slightly with age and oozed penetrating cold up into the bottoms of his feet. His breath fogged around his face but the air didn’t feel quite cold enough for that.

 

Harry was looking straight down a long narrow hallway. He wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting, or if the hallway really was painted in blacks and charcoal grays. At the very end of the hallway, a black door was faintly illuminated by nothing at all, the only door that Harry could see that actually had a door knob. A low hum resonated through the house—which Harry assumed is what he was standing in at this moment.

 

Feeling an instinctual pull, Harry’s feet shuffled forward and he began the slow procession towards the door. Each step cranked up the volume of the hum until finally it took on a more defined sound. It sounded as if someone of immense strength was just behind that door at the end of the hall, beating against the door with a murderous fury. As Harry got closer, he realized that there actually  _ was _ something behind the door, considering how the black wood shuddered and shook violently in its frame.

 

Harry’s heart was beating erratically in his chest as he neared. Oh how he dreaded the opening of that door, but it felt like it was absolute, like no matter what tried, he would  _ have _ to open it. When Harry was close enough to the door to touch it, the pounding stopped and the silence was deafening. The silence was anything but empty, though. It was like Harry could still  _ feel _ that whatever was behind the door was still there, just beyond the wood and watching him expectantly.

 

His hand slowly lifted towards the handle, and as it did, there was a chilling sensation of cold fingers on the back of his neck. As his hand lifted, the fingers slid around his throat and jaw like a snake. His hand touched the icily burning handle and bony charcoal fingers slid over his face like a grotesque mask. All so agonizingly slow.

 

He opened his lips to take a breath, ready to turn the handle when he was suddenly ripped back so fast it felt like he was being torn from his body, from the very seams of the scene around him.

 

Harry’s waking was as gentle and subtle as a blow horn. Jolting up out of bed, heaving in breaths that just didn’t feel fast enough as he felt the residual clammy fingers curled around his face. Draco was awake and alert in a matter of moments, searching Harry for injury with frantic silver eyes. He couldn’t get his voice to work around the labored breaths, but he managed to assure Draco that he was okay through his expression and a slight nodding of his head as he sank into Draco’s embrace. Harry forced his breathing to slow as Draco’s insistent fingers carded through his hair, an arm around his waist pulling him in tightly.

 

“Nightmare. . .” Harry answered the unspoken question and though Draco seemed to relax a little, the tension didn’t leave him completely. The pair laid back down, limbs wound together and hearts primal rhythm syncing through bone, flesh, and clothing. Harry tried not to think about his dream as the darkness of  his room wrapped its obsidian curtains around him and the dredges of slumber threatened to take him under once again—to what, he really didn’t know. The weeping of drafts through cracks and corridors lulling him back into a tense sleep.

 

֎

 

Morning held excitement for the coming days and left the nights events in the fog of a restless night. It was the last day of the weekend that Harry had left, so he knew it would be a busy day. On top of diving into the first real day of training, it was also the day that the Wizengamot would be meeting and later that night Harry was going to talk to Gail again about Terra di Morte. Getting a feel for how the Ministry was treating magical creatures and what kinds of legislation was being produced would help Harry before their meeting.

 

At breakfast, everyone seemed excited to begin training, though the Slytherins—as expected—didn’t outwardly show any sort of giddiness aside from finishing breakfast a little early and pretending that they weren’t watching Harry and Draco expectantly. They didn’t all leave at once, that would arouse a bit suspicion among staff and student alike. Everyone in the group from Slytherin leaving together wouldn’t look weird, but from the other houses as well? That would do nothing to help them avoid detection.

 

Training went exceedingly well for the first half of the day. Harry and Mal worked hands on with the others on introducing high-level defensive spells to them in their simplest forms while Draco lounged in a leather chair off to the side of the room of requirement, observing silently with an air of boredom stagnating around his person. When Harry asked him if he would help out the blonde scoffed and intoned some nonsense about not having the patience to deal with them at such an elementary level and how he would be better at  _ ‘refining’  _ their skills. Harry left him be for the time being, knowing that he would take over for Harry after he left.

 

Draco wasn’t fond of Harry going to the Ministry on his own, but when Harry challenged him nonverbally to try to make him stay, the Dominant Izaki backed down to the will of his mate. It wasn’t as if Draco could have gone with him anyways, Wizengamot meetings weren’t some field trip where you could bring all of the spectators you wanted. Harry wasn’t able to officially vote at the meetings yet, but he could attend with an active member. That was the only reason Harry could sit in, and since Lucius was the current holder of the Malfoy house votes, Draco wouldn’t be able to attend until he himself reached an age where he could actually take over for his father; which he couldn’t do until he graduated from Hogwarts like Harry.

 

It was a mess of circumstantial what’s-it’s that might even be contested by other members that might not like seeing him there, but if they really dug into it, Harry could always prove that he had a right to be there since he was the last surviving member of his line.

 

So two hours before lunch would begin, Harry left the room of requirement early with a quick kiss goodbye from Draco with a warning not to let his curiosity or temper get him into any sort of trouble. Harry stopped by his room before he left so that he could change out of his normal day clothes and switch them out for his high-quality tailored dark navy blue formal robes. Then he apparated straight into the Malfoy manor receiving room and waited until Lucius walked around the corner several minutes later, distracted by the buttons on the front of his robe and not noticing Harry standing there at first.

 

“Ah, looks like I arrived just in time to catch you on your way out.” Harry spoke up, holding back a smile when Lucius looked like Voldemort had just popped into his home with a vendetta on his mind. Harry smiled politely after a moment. “My, I hope you didn’t forget already Lucius, you invited me to join to for the next Wizengamot meeting. I think it will be good to spend a bit of time together considering that we are practically family now.”

 

Lucius, ever the head of the Malfoy line, only spent a moment in his state of shock and soon pulled back down the impenetrable mask he was accustomed to wearing in all situations. As Lucius approached Harry in elegant sure strides, Harry found it amusing that the man he’d found so formidable as a child was no longer nearly as daunting now that they were so close in height.

 

“Please excuse my horrendous manners, it must have slipped my mind with all that has been happening lately. Shall we?” Lucius gestured towards his grand black marble fireplace that had probably never held an actual fire in it.. Harry nodded graciously and followed behind Lucius into the floo.

 

Stepping out of one of the Ministry entry points after the nauseating transportation and then suddenly being surrounded by the loud clamor and rumbling of so many people was a bit overwhelming at first—as it always seemed to be. Lucius was waiting for him on the other side, and began walking at brisk pace the moment he seemed to have Harry’s attention. Lucius weaved through the forceful current of people and Harry walked behind him leisurely so that he would have to be the one to cut the path through the stream. As much as it might annoy Lucius, Harry didn’t really want to make a spectacle out of his visit to the Ministry. He may look different from the last time the public at large had seen him, but that didn’t mean he was unrecognizable.

 

Making their way through the green and black marble maze of corridors and large ornately carved wooden doors, it took several minutes to actually arrive at the antechamber of the Wizengamot meeting chamber. There were only a few left idling in the antechamber, standing close together and talking lowly to each other with austere expressions. Lucius didn’t loiter in the antechamber like the others, he simply walked through the door that would bring him to the side of the meeting room unnoticed.

 

Harry was mildly surprised to see that no one bothered to wear their official plum Wizengamot robes with the silver W embroidered into the breast. Though, he supposes that since they wouldn’t have an audience because it wasn’t a trial, there really wasn’t a need for the formality. With less members in attendance than Harry remembered seeing at his last encounter with the Wizengamot, everyone was fairly spread out about the room. The space and lack of uniform allowed Harry to go unnoticed from where he sat next to Lucius.

 

Elphias Doge, he was the current Senior Undersecretary to the Minister after Umbridge’s ‘disappearance’. The position gave him the right to stand in Dumbledore’s—as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—place when he was out, which he currently was due to a probable bout of killer migraines and absolutely no filter on his thoughts. Harry held back a grin when recalling how haggard his Headmaster was looking lately. The fool deserves everything that is coming his way and more.

 

Harry was pulled back out of his thoughts about Dumbledore by the sound of a gavel meeting hardwood and was reminded of why he had been thinking about Doge in the first place. The silver haired man brought the room to a near-silent state, with the exception of several members that didn’t seem all that interested in whatever Doge had to say.

 

Harry kept the expression his face politely neutral as Elphias began to dreary drone of reading the first piece of legislation that would be presented to the court. Something about whether shopkeepers should be allowed to have displays that went more than a meter out from their shop in an attempt to open up the cluttered walkway of Diagon Alley a bit more. As the time trudged on and more horrendously boring legislation was presented and voted on, Harry began to worry that Lucius had invited him for another reason besides the meeting itself and that listening to the meeting wouldn’t bore any sort of value to him in any way. If that  _ was _ the case and since then Lucius has thought better of actually discussing whatever he’d intended to discuss, then Harry was going to be annoyed that he’d wasted his time.

 

Just as Harry was coming to the conclusion that this was, in fact, what was happening here, Elphias closed another piece of evidence and it was like a switch had been flipped as everyone seemed to come back to life. People sat up straighter and even leaned in a little more, the lull of the meeting disappearing from their expressions and Harry’s interest was piqued.

 

“Notion I-481 Section B: Notion states as presented by Werewolf National Alliance for Peace—in the instance that an individual infected with lycanthropy does not have the means of acquiring wolfsbane potion, it should be provided for them by the Ministry upon proof of inability to make said purchase. All those in favor?” Hands raised and scattered voices throughout the room intoned the traditional ‘I’ as their votes were counted. “Against?” Elphias asked and Harry was shocked to see more hands raise this time, and with more confidence. There were several who withheld their vote, but that wasn’t what mattered.

 

All Harry could think about was Remus and how he knew that it was extremely hard for werewolves to get jobs at all, accounting for their high numbers of poverty. Also, he remembers how distraught Remus was when he had to face the full moon without wolfsbane around  _ his cub _ to boot! Wolfsbane didn’t necessarily completely contain the wolf, but it allows their human side to retain their memories of the full moon so that they know exactly what they did. Waking up with no idea if you’d hurt or  _ killed _ someone the night before was far from pleasant. Harry still had to deal with the letter he’d received from Remus over about two weeks before, but every time he got to the point where he had a quill and parchment in front of him, his mind went blank and he only frustrated himself further.

 

Remus was still so clearly under Dumbledore’s thumb. Perhaps this would need more intervention than just a letter, maybe he needed to sort this in person. But it would have to wait, more pressing matters were at hand.

Most of the bills and regulations presented after that one were sent in from other volunteer organizations that were meant to fairly represent the magical creature community. Harry felt sicker and sicker as bills that would bring magical creatures closer to having reasonable rights were shot down one after another. It appeared that the same laws and guidelines that had been implemented for magical creatures over half a century ago were what many of them wanted. They wanted to keep a huge group of beings and beasts under their boots to keep themselves on top.

 

The only notions that were actually passed were the ones presented by actual politicians that  _ restricted _ the rights of creatures further. Harry was only slightly abated to see Lucius voting  _ for _ every notion that would give them more rights, but there were several times where Harry caught him watching him from the corner of his eye before voting, as if waiting to see Harry’s reaction to it first. He doubted that Lucius gained a whole lot from that though, because Harry was a master of composure with how much time he spends around Draco.

 

The meeting lasted for several hours, with the part about creatures being only a small portion, but by far the most important. The overall consensus by the time he walked out of the room and back into the antechamber was that—similar to the muggle world—those with the power to make a change only do so when it best fits their own interests. It seems to be happening a lot lately for Harry, he sets low expectations for something and is astounded to find that it’s much worse than he’d thought.

 

Lucius and Harry left the Ministry rather quickly once the meeting had commenced, wanting to avoid anyone who might have spotted Harry during the meeting and might get it into their head to corner him after the meeting. They both flooed back to Malfoy Manor, Lucius first and Harry soon after. Lucius looked startled to see Harry come in after him, obviously he’d thought that the brunet would have wanted to go straight back to Hogwarts after the meeting, but Harry had one more piece of business to attend to before he met with Gail.

 

Without saying a word, Harry gestured for Lucius to go on so that he could follow him. Lucius didn’t let anything show through as he turned stiffly and led Harry to his office. Once there, Harry sat down in the chair on the other side of Lucius’s desk and waited for him to sit as well. Harry watched Lucius carefully as he spoke, cataloging every little movement and expression.

 

“How has your Dark Lord been lately?” Harry asked casually, thought the subject was anything but. Lucius stiffened in his chair, looking utterly befuddled and at a loss for words. Finally deciding on what to say, he cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter. Harry found a vengeful satisfaction in making Lucius uncomfortable, but that wasn’t his only reason for asking him about Voldemort.

 

“As you  _ and Draco _ already know, I am loyal to my Lord and am not actually helping the light.” Lucius’s voice cut through the air in harsh tones the let his displeasure with that fact show through to Harry.  _ Ah, so he’s still angry with him for making him tell Draco. _ Harry couldn’t say that he was surprised by that.

 

“Neither am I. That has nothing to do with my question. I’m not sure how much you know at this point, but I know you’re smart enough to piece together that I was involved in your lord coming back to you early on his annual holiday. I want to know if anything has happened or changed since then. You and I both know that I am more than capable of digging the answers out of your head. Do we want a repeat performance of a few weeks ago or can you just give me a bit of information that can’t even harm your Lord?” Harry threatened, feeling agitated after the restless night, less than promising Wizengamot meeting, and now having to deal with Lucius’s stubbornness once again. Lucius raised a blonde eyebrow as if to prove Harry’s thoughts further.

 

“Are you so sure that you can? It has been a while since you tried, I won’t willingly give up anything about my Lord, and so you’ll just have to take it from me.” Lucius leaned back in his chair, waiting for Harry to do just that.

 

Harry stood up from his chair, ready to take on Lucius’s challenge and prove that he  _ always _ had the upper hand. Bracing his hands on the desk, Harry’s gaze bored into light grey eyes and he pushed through the old  _ occlumency  _ shields, meeting little resistance. When he broke through, though, he hit a second wall that hadn’t been there before. As if triggered by the contact, the wall flared out defensive magic of its own and Harry couldn’t pull away fast enough. Harry physically recoiled, stepping away from the desk as he felt an unfamiliar magic soak into his skin.

 

Lucius stood, looking beyond smug with himself as he straightened out his already impeccable robes.

 

“You really think my Lord wouldn’t find out about your little move last time? He put up a few shields of his own to protect what I know, they’re impenetrable so many others have tried.” Lucius scoffed at the thought of being underestimated by someone so young.

 

_ “You idiot!” _ Harry roared as it felt like his lungs were filling with smoke from the inside out, cutting off his airways. Stumbling and grabbing the chair closest to him to keep from falling over as his legs trembled. The sneer on Lucius’s face fell instantly and was replaced with concern, panic, and a bit of apprehension like he wasn’t sure if Harry was faking or not. Voldemort didn’t know what he is and neither did Lucius, which means that Lucius didn’t anticipate that Harry—an Izaki—coming into contact with Voldemort’s magic—being practically a Fassir—might have a very adverse effect on him.

 

Harry crumpled to the ground as his limbs lost their strength and Lucius ran to catch him, only managing to slip a hand under his head before it hit unyielding marble. Cursing under his breath, Lucius scrambled to try to do something— _ anything _ —to help Harry. Harry gasped for breath that didn’t reach his lungs, if he could breathe, he would have screamed for the pain that stabbed straight through his skull like a white hot fire poker. Suddenly Lucius was gone, but Harry hear him vaguely of the sound of his own chokes and gasps. It sounded like he was talking to someone in low, quiet tones so Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying.

 

All Harry could think about at that time was how Draco was going to be furious with  _ both _ of them. Harry was still recovering from his  _ blasted heart stopping _ and now he let his curiosity almost put him back in a grave. Harry’s lungs stopped trying desperately to expand and his vision blurred around the edges. It felt like Harry’s head was filled with helium and about ready to float away from his body. As his limbs went numb, Harry saw Lucius come back into his fading line of sight and faintly felt him slide his arms underneath him and lift him up off of the ground. Before Lucius was even fully upright, Harry was unconscious.

  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter Twelve: Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry it's been so astoundingly late! The end of the semester is truly kicking my ass right now and it's been very hard to find the time to write, and even when I do, I feel like I don't have enough time to develop my ideas and end up disliking them.
> 
> Good news, though, on May 7th I will be done with classes and able to go back home for the summer. It has been a crazy first year of college, but I've made it through more or less with my sanity intact! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me.
> 
> This is by no means my last chapter and I hope to get the next one to you sooner than it's taken me to post this, but I make no promises!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, if you have anything (anything at all! I'm lonely!) please leave me a comment! I don't care about views or kudos or my fic gaining popularity, what really brings me joy is seeing how much you guys enjoy it! I love being able to interact with you and discuss things and even make improvements on my future chapters based on what you guys say. Beyond anything else, it really motivates me when I get little messages and comments from all of you.
> 
> Sorry for rambling! I'm sure you just want to get to the horribly delayed chapter! Pleasant Readings!

 

 

Lucius would never allow anyone to see him panic or fret, he’d spent decades perfecting the perfect poker face in the most highly stressful and life-threatening situations. So when Severus rushes around the corner, having just received a rather alarming floo call from his long-time friend, he definitely _does not_ see Lucius pacing anxiously in front of a plain richly-stained door. Nor does he see panic and desperation in Lucius’s grey eyes when the blonde finally notices his presence. Absolutely none.

 

“What the devil is going on here?” The brooding professor exclaimed before he’d come to a stop in front of Lucius. Severus took careful note of Lucius’ flighty glances at the door he’d been pacing in front of as he fumbled to explain exactly how he’d ended up with an unconscious Harry Potter in one of his guest bedrooms. Not staying still to hear the stories completion, Snape moved quickly into the room and immediately his eyes latched onto the still young man he’d come to hold shockingly dear to him over these last few months—though he would never give the delinquent the satisfaction of admitting it.

 

Seeing him now, though, he only looked as though he’d walking in on the young man while he was sleeping. Severus felt his brow crease in worry and if Lucius noticed it, he didn’t say anything. He pulled out his wand and began performing every diagnostic spell he’d acquired over the years as a professor and meddler in the dark arts. To Severus’s growing confusion, every spell he cast came back negative and completely normal. Without knowing the full nature of the curse, Severus could only conclude that the effects were more psychological rather than physical. Perhaps the best thing to compare it to was like a panic attack, only tenfold.

 

He was about to explain just this to Lucius when he was stopped by a thunderous boom that buzzed and trembled through the Manor from somewhere within the building. After a moment of confusion, understanding dawned on Lucius’s face and he cursed under his breath. Still not quite sure what was going on, Severus cautiously approached the door, allotting Lucius enough time to stop him if he didn’t think it was safe.

 

Reaching the hallway, Severus began making his way more quickly towards the noise and was almost to a smaller set of stairs than the main staircase at the center of the manor that would take him to the entrance hall the quickest when he almost collided with a flurry of pluming black robes and pale skin. Severus caught furious glowing eyes and for a horrifying moment he’d thought Lucius stupid enough to invite the Dark Lord into his home with the boy still here. In fact, he was a breaths away from running back to the room to protect Harry when he realized that the eyes he’d seen were not a vehement red and the head was indeed topped with immaculate blonde hair he was quite familiar with. Releasing an exhausted sigh, Severus lost a bit of the tension clenching in his chest and stood a bit straighter in front of his godson.

 

That didn’t mean that he completely relaxed though, oh no, he’d never witnessed such a monstrous look on the aristocratic face he’d seen evolve from an infant. It made sense now why Lucius looked so out of sorts. Having that gaze on him for even a moment had induced such a strong sense of fear in him that he wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t some sort of unconscious magic working as a natural intimidation technique.

 

Molten silver eyes took in Severus’s presence as if for the first time and narrowed accusingly. Before Draco could speak, he quickly jumped in to divert the young man’s attention.

 

“He’s down the hall, I’ll take you there.” Severus didn’t drop his sneering condescending tone for many occasions, but he figured that this, if anything, was certainly one of them. Draco didn’t say anything, just kept his boiling gaze on him as Severus turned around and hurriedly walked back in the direction that he’d come.

 

They were only a couple meters away from the room when the door opened and Lucius slipped out, gently closing it behind him before looking at his enraged son with a mask of cool collectiveness pulled firmly over the emotion’s Severus had clearly seen when they had been alone together. Draco’s narrow eyed glare at his father was something Severus thought he would never see again after Lucius had promised to cut ties to his master.

 

He probably should have expected tensions to be quite peaked now that it has come to light—at least within their small group—that Lucius was still standing firmly with the Dark lord, and Narcissa could not just simply let her husband remain a Death Eater and alone in that world when there have been quite a few Death Eaters itching to ‘dispose’ of Lucius because of his place in the inner circle of Death Eaters as well as all of the recent news about Draco and Harry’s relationship. No matter how loath Harry would be to hear it, the fact of the matter is that among most circles—especially purebloods and certainly anyone who had not attended Lucius’ gala—Harry was still seen as the boy-who-lived, and more importantly, the Dark Lord’s largest enemy.

 

“I was trusting him in your care, _what happened?”_ Draco’s deathly calm tone chilled the potions master to the bone. Lucius then gave Draco a very brief summary of the events that led Harry ending up in his current state. When Lucius arrived at the portion of the story where Harry had such an adverse reaction to whatever Lucius had done to his mental shields, Draco roared furiously and took a threatening step towards his father.

 

“ _Enough!_ I want whatever qualms you have against Harry to end right here and now. He’s not the ‘savior’ anymore and he’s not just waiting for you to slip up so that he can destroy your career or reputation or _whatever the hell_ you think he’s trying to do! He’s never had a family, never had anyone he could truly rely on without that person turning around and stabbing him in the back. He’s never had a reason to trust anyone enough to _consider_ them family, but I wanted to change that. I wanted to give him the family he deserved. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy transition, but I had hoped that he could come to rely on you and mother the same way that _I_ have.

 

“Before the gala, he was _so nervous_ to meet you and mother. He hid it well, but I could see how much he wanted it to work! And when you asked him to accompany you to a Wizengamot meeting? It was like he’d finally warmed up to the idea of him _actually_ holding a permanent place among our family. He has been through hell and back and deserves more than being treated as the foolish little Gryffindor you keep painting him as! Now . . . you can either make an _honest fucking effort_ to make this work, or I will have no choice but to cut you out of our lives for good!” Draco exclaimed, breathing hard and eyes wide with intensity to show Lucius that he truly meant every word.

 

Lucius stood gaping at his son. He’d expected anger, hostility, and violence but instead he’d given an ultimatum. It seemed that Draco was trying put Harry’s best interests first—and struggling hard to fight his instinct for blood. Severus could understand his motivation to do so, though. The former Death Eater felt more than just protectiveness for the son of his first love, he also felt responsible for the boy and wanted Harry to have the family that he’d been deprived of all of these years. Severus knew that nothing could ever replace the loving family Harry _could_ have had with his biological parents and all of their Light Wizard friends, but the Malfoys held the potential to be the first closest thing to a family for Harry since the Weasley clan came into the picture and then tarnished that hope by abandoning the boy to a life of abusive relatives and manipulative Headmasters.

 

Seeing that there was no chance of Lucius collecting his thoughts enough to even _come close_ to responding to that, Severus stepped forward, garnering the attention of the younger blonde. Making a gesture towards the door, Severus spoke in polite but firm tones.

 

“I think it would be best to see Harry now and I can fill you in on his condition inside.” Severus didn’t wait for Draco’s response and moved quickly back into the room with the unconscious boy. Severus almost regretted offering to stay in the room to talk to Draco when he saw the broken look on his godson’s face the moment he entered the guest room.

 

֎

 

The first thing that registered to Harry as he was slowly dragged up out of the recesses of his mind was long fingers carding through his hair, brushing over his scalp and tugging ever so blissfully gentle as they combed through his thick hair. Without making any sort of effort to fully leave his warm foggy state of mind, he turned his head slightly and lightly nudged his nose against their wrist, nuzzling closer to that comforting hand. The hand froze and Harry almost whined aloud to get it to continue its much appreciated ministrations.

 

“Harry?” The voice was low and smooth. The familiar voice brought a visceral smile to Harry’s lips and he barely cracked his eyes open—just enough to make out blurry shapes as he sought out the owner of the voice.

 

Draco made a surprised noise as Harry moved sleepily across the bed, slipping out from under the blankets fluidly and climbing into Draco’s lap from where he sat in a chair pulled up close to the side of the bed. Little snuffling deprived noises slipped between Harry’s open lips as he nestled in closer to Draco and tugged at pieces of clothing like he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t get to Draco’s bare skin. Giving in to the insistent tugs and urges of _his_ _own_ brain, Draco wrapped a protective arm around Harry’s waist, pulling them flush together while the other hand gripped the back of Harry’s head with his fingers lodged deep into the silken curls and tufts.

 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Harry. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you. . . Calm down, love, you’re all right now.” Draco assured Harry and the brunet began to settle down and become more coherent as the seconds passed. A minute or so passed before the tugs and pleading noises ceased completely and Harry went still in Draco’s arms.

 

An overwhelming wave of guilt hit Draco and it took him several confusing moments to realize it had come from Harry through their bond. Draco pulled back far enough so he could look at Harry, whose head was lowered as he looked at the floor to Draco’s left to avoid meeting his gaze. Gently guiding Harry’s face up, he waited until Harry’s flighty gaze settled on him to speak.

 

“It is okay, _my heart_ , I _am_ angry but not at you. Do I wish that that you would have told me about this beforehand instead of doing it on your own _again?_ Yes. But that is a discussion for another time and I understand that this wasn’t entirely your fault. Mainly, it was _his._ ” Draco growled the last part and took a brief moment to reign himself in again before turning his silken gaze back on Harry—who was looking a bit less tense than before, but his brow was still slightly furrowed—and softening his features. Harry felt a sudden burst of warmth in his abdomen at the pet name Draco had used for him and he curled back around his lover in a tight embrace.

 

After a while longer, Harry’s own anger and confusion flared back up as he was reminded of Lucius’s stupidity. He remembers the smug smirk on the elder Malfoy’s face a moment before it slipped into confusion. Lucius had gotten Voldemort to put up some very dark and tenacious _occlumency_ to keep Harry or anyone else from peaking around inside of his head. It was stupid of Harry to act so rashly, but whatever Voldemort had added to those shields didn’t act until he was already inside. Harry exhaled sharply in frustration and he pulled back again to look at Draco but refusing to move off of where he was straddling the blonde.

 

“What exactly happened?” He kept his voice relatively calm, but the darkening of Draco’s features told him that the other knew what he was feeling and felt quite the same. As Draco took a moment to order his thoughts and the roiling dark churn of emotions that echoed through their bond, Harry finally took notice of the room they were in. It wasn’t his dorm room back at Hogwarts, it looked like a random guest room at the Malfoy manor. Dark polished wood floors without a single scuff or speck of dust, elegantly carved antique wood furniture, richly dark navy blue walls with ornate white trim, and a large four poster bed with velvet draping’s and gold silk sheets. Even a random guest room was so immaculately furnished and maintained. One would expect nothing less from the Malfoys, though.

 

Since Harry wasn’t in Draco’s room, it was safe to assume that Lucius had taken Harry to the closest empty room he could find with a bed and for whatever reason they had not thought it fit to move him. It made Harry’s anxiety spike at the implications of his situation and the fact that Draco was still silent. Draco must have felt this, though, because he quickly began speaking to calm Harry down again and swear that it wasn’t about that.

 

“It was just like you described, I _felt_ something happen to you as if it were happening to myself, but more detached. I was completely fine one moment and then the next . . . I couldn’t _breathe!”_ Draco hissed and his grip tightened on Harry’s hips. “I knew that you were supposed to still be with my father, so I immediately came here and found out my father had called _Severus_ before _me!_ They were trying to figure out what had happened to you and hadn’t even _tried_ to contact me. I doubt my father would have told me at all if something had happened, not wanting to know what I would do to him if things really took a turn for the worst.” Draco’s tone left no doubt in Harry’s mind that if Lucius had been, in _any way,_ connected to Harry dying he would have killed him.

 

As much as Harry knew that this revelation should concern or frighten him, he couldn’t even muster up the motivation to _pretend_ that it did. Draco doesn’t hate his father, Harry knows this, hell he probably doesn’t even really dislike his father. He understands that Draco will always hold a certain respect for the man. That being said, the bond that exists between Izaki mates transcends the bonds of familial blood. There is still much that they didn’t know about Izaki mating bonds since the Izaki _not_ in a compound rarely mate with other Izaki due to how sparse and wide spread they are on the planet. Yet, what they knew to be _absolutely true,_ felt it in their very bones, is that if one were to die, the other would be driven to such insanity and grief that they would be as good as dead. Harry knew that if Draco were to die, he would burn the world to the ground just to punish it for allowing it to happen. The ferocity of their need for each other, the sheer power that linked them was terrifying; yet, Harry wouldn’t change it for the world. And, somehow, he knew that Draco felt the same way.

 

Harry’s brow furrowed when Draco paused, feeling like he was only seeing random little clusters of the puzzle with most of the pieces still missing. “But I _did_ get better! Obviously something happened and now I’m better, so what happened? How’d you figure it out?” Harry busied his idle hands by slowly slipping the top button out of the fabric slit and brushing feather-light figure-eight’s and circles over the fair skin underneath before moving on to the next. While he did this, he took mental stock of his physical condition for the first time, realizing that other than a bit of stiffness in his neck from sleeping on too many pillows that put his head at an odd angle, he felt completely normal.

 

Draco’s expression morphed into that of complete befuddlement and he sighed exhaustingly. “That’s just it, we didn’t find anything. We did every diagnostic test we could think of, called in the family physician, in a moment of desperation I even tried _legilimency_ on my father but Voldemort’s shields held without any adverse effect on me. Apparently you were breathing again only moments after losing consciousness and were rapidly recovering on your own after that. You were unconscious for several hours but now, as far as we can tell, you’re completely fine. It seems that this was solely a _psychological_ attack and was meant to disarm the intruder without actually killing them. We _will_ be looking into this more thoroughly, though. For some reason, the shields were entirely resistant and unyielding to me, which is the only reason the same thing didn’t happen to me.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement. That explanation made plenty of sense. What _didn’t_ make sense, was _why?_ Why was it so easy for Harry to slip in and not Draco when it’s clear that Draco’s years of private tutors and probable training from his father would have made him an expert at _legilimency_ and _occlumency?_ It obviously wasn’t that Harry was a natural at it or he had somehow magically become better at it since the inheritance, because it quite clearly remembers his abysmal _occlumency_ training with Snape his fifth year and there’s no way that he would have gotten so much better than Draco because Draco’s an Izaki too.

 

“Perhaps it has to do with my magical signature. It’s possible that Voldemort somehow keyed it in to my magical signature so that it would only affect me. I guess it’s fair, I went digging through his mind—quite literally—and he did the same in return.” Harry, itching to be closer to Draco, leaned in again and rested his chin on his shoulder while his arms wrapped loosely around Draco. It felt like every time Harry came up with a plan to fix one problem, two more popped up just to spite him with no more answers than what he’d started with.

 

“Did you do anything to him?” Harry asked after a long silence, more to put off talking about certain subjects started to swirl and storm in his mind than out of actual concern for the Death Eater of a future father-in-law.

 

“Severus stepped in before I even had the chance to and pointed out that I should see you first. I’m sure my father fled to his _dear_ _master_ as soon as he was no longer needed. He and I will be . . . _chatting_ later, though.”

 

Harry sat there in silence for a long while, stew in his own thoughts about another matter entirely as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

“Harry? What is it?” Concern bled unashamedly into Draco’s tone. For the briefest moment, Harry cursed the transparency that the bond created between them. He was not quite sure if this was something he wanted to gush about at the moment, especially with the chaos that was currently their life.

 

“It’s just . . . with everything that’s been going on—with Dumbledore, Voldemort, the Izaki, and even the _bloody Fassir now_ —I can’t help but feel like I’m barely keeping my head above the water in all of this! . . . It used to be so simple: I had a set goal, a definite path to follow. Kill Voldemort, then all of my problems would be fixed, at least . . . that’s how everyone made it seem. But now I know that the man I thought was trying to protect me had really been holding a knife to my throat all these years, and the man I thought to be my greatest enemy turns out to be just another victim! Everything has gone from black and white to a hazy shade of grey and it’s become so hard to really be sure of my actions anymore.

 

“I am trying desperately to both do what is right and also embrace who I am now. But I’m just not sure if I can do both without being a complete hypocrite. I decided that I would no longer play the hero, but I also can’t seem to stay out of the thick of things, so does that make me the villain? I mean, most of the time I’m so _certain_ that everything I’m doing is completely logical and reasonable; I’m so sure of myself and what I’m doing is right, but sometimes I get tripped up. I have these moments of doubt where I look back on my actions in particular situations and think that maybe I didn’t do what I thought was necessary, I purposely took a darker path because _I enjoyed it._ When I do these things, they always feel so right at that moment. But I know that my past self wouldn’t have ever even considered doing them.”

 

While he said this, Harry thought about the dream he’d had about that dark hallway. It had left him feeling conflicted and confused, especially because he’s fairly sure that he’d dreamt the same thing while unconscious, but the memory was so faint he wasn’t even sure if had happened at all. He gets the feeling that it’s more of a metaphorical representation of a conflict within him. The issue is that he’s not sure of whether he’s the hand pulling him away from the danger, or if he’s the beast behind the door . . . or if he’s both, the struggle between his desires and his fears.

 

Draco frowned deeply and when he pulled back, Harry didn’t follow the movement like a large part of him wanted to, and so he ended up able to look at Harry for the first time since he’d started talking about this and see Harry’s conflicted expression. Draco’s face melted into one of understanding and he nodded, like he’d just realized something that Harry hadn’t.

 

“Are you sure ‘bout that?” Draco’s passive tone caught Harry off guard. Looking up at him mate and meeting Draco’s eyes for the first time since he broached the topic of his uncertainty, Harry’s forehead pinched together and Draco couldn’t help but see the expression as adorably close to a pout. Before Harry could ask him what the hell he was on about, Draco continued to elaborate.

 

“What I mean is, are you really so sure that the ‘past you’ would have never been able to do these things? Even while completely under Dumbledore’s thumb there were moments when I saw this . . . _darkness_ in you. Moments when you let your anger take over and it was like a mask slipped off for a brief moment and I got to see the _real you_. It always drew me to you, seeing the timid yet righteous boy-who-lived transform into a cold, beautiful creature. Of course, in the past, I didn’t exactly know how to _deal with_ my sexual frustrations, so I merely thought that I continuously butt heads with you because I hated you—but the truth is that I _yearned_ to see that expression again!

 

“I don’t know if you know this, but whenever you get angry— _truly angry—_ your eyes shine with a chilling glow and your glare always sent shivers through me. It was practically addictive. So I riled you up at every chance I got and only realized that what I was feeling was attraction _after_ I saw that you weren’t Dumbledore’s golden boy anymore, once I realized that I could see that being attracted to you wasn’t impossible. You remember when you threw that curse at me, ‘ _sectumsempra?’_ That curse was created by Severus and it is _very dark._ You know how dark magic works, it is all heavily based on _intention_. You wouldn’t have come even close to casting it if it wasn’t something that you had not only the willingness but _eagerness_ to cast. That was before your inheritance, which means that even if you didn’t realize it, somewhere deep down you have always been this way. The darkness has only been masquerading as light all of these years out of self-preservation.

 

“You are _not_ a hero, and you are _not_ a villain either. No matter how hard others try to rationalize their actions by thinking that this is the way that the world works and they are always on the ‘good’ side; that is simply dishonest. You are _just Harry_ , not hero, not villain. You see something that you want to make right and you go after it. You will make mistakes, you will fall helpless to your desires, you will fight for things only to realize later that they were not what they seemed, and somewhere along the way, your actions will get someone close to you hurt. Its bullocks and absolutely unfair, but it’s something that can’t be prevented. A path is never as smooth as you may initially think, there is always going to be bumps and downfalls and parts when you can’t even see where you’re walking anymore, but no path is right or wrong, they simply just _are._

 

“Look, I know that this transition has been much harder for you than it was for me. You didn’t grow up surrounded by dark wizards and magic, you didn’t have someone to assure you that dark does not equate evil just as light does not equate good. I’m sure that all of this—especially over the summer when you had _no one_ to turn to—this has all been very overwhelming and jarring, but just know that I am here now. I love you with all that I am and nothing you do could ever change that. There will be those who will condemn you for no more than your dark orientation, but they do not matter. You are all that I need in this world and I hope that it the same for you.” Draco ended by leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

 

Harry released a shaky breath as his throat tightened with everything Draco had said. This acceptance was different from the time Harry had shared with Draco his rocky past with his muggle relatives. Then, Draco had accepted his pain, now he was accepting _him,_ and he _accepted himself_.

 

Lips parted and eyes closed, Harry breathed in raggedly and he felt the emotions fill him up like he’d never been filled before and when he exhaled, it was like his magic was finally slipping out of his steel grip and it felt so euphorically _dark and honest_. Part of Harry hadn’t fully given in to his darker side since his inheritance. He indulged and loosened his grip, but he’d always kept a hold of the reigns, just in case he lost himself along the way. What he hadn’t realized, was that in doing so, in reality, he wasn’t _being himself._

 

A low moan slipped past his lips as the magic surrounded both Draco and himself. He heard Draco suck in a heavy breath and his grip on Harry’s hips tightened and dragged him closer until their groins pressed together, separated only by a few layers of expensive fabric and eliciting a sharp hiss from Harry. Draco ducked down to start kissing and nipping at Harry’s neck. Harry tilted his head up to give Draco better access grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders as his back arched, pressing more fully into his lover.

 

“That’s it . . . let it free, Harry . . . _more!”_ Draco whispered against the sensitive flesh of his neck as his hand slipped into Harry’s hair and gripped it tight enough to bring Harry all the way into a full, aching arousal. Harry complied and his skin seemed to seep dark magic, making every touch, every kiss, and every brush of fabric against his skin made him practically delirious with pleasure. His body trembled with the rapture that his unrestrained power brought and he could tell by the hard press against the expanse just below his navel that the magic was affecting Draco much in the same way. Harry could feel the moment Draco’s magic crept up to meet his, caressing and mingling, it sent amazing little shocks up his thighs as they gripped the chair below Draco tightly and dragged his groin against Draco’s in his hunger for even more _sensations_.

 

 _“§Yesss . . . this is—this is amazing! I need you, Draco. I need you **now** §”_ Harry hissed, barely aware that he’d slipped into parseltongue. Draco growled viciously and the next thing Harry knew, he was being pressed up against the wall and Draco was ravaging his mouth, holding him up by the firm grip he had on the back of Harry’s thighs. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist and met Draco’s violent kisses with vigor, feeling the ache for the other man deep and alive in his gut. Draco pressed forward further, creating mind-numbing friction that had Harry moaning into Draco’s mouth and he desperately wished that Draco would hold him harder, to feel something that would could ground him in the intoxicating swim of his mind surrounded by all of the raw magic.

 

Harry felt the tug against his limbs and back as fabric was torn and heated skin collided in breathless kisses and desperate clinging. Harry’s swollen lips caught between the clash of teeth, tongue, and urgency. He chanted Draco’s name in every hiss, exhalation, and keen. Sacred scriptures were written in Harry’s eyes and expression when cool caressing air was replaced by slick hot fingers that dove deep inside of Harry’s body in order to prepare him more quickly. He clung desperately to his mate as long salacious fingers worked fervently to unwind each thread that held Harry together. He needed to be as close as intimately possible with Draco for more than just the urgent need to get off, when they are having sex—the ultimate act of intimacy—a sort of . . . communication happens between them that doesn’t occur at any other time. The best way that Harry could describe it, is that it feels like _years_ ’ worth of ‘I love you’ and ‘I understand you’ and ‘you are mine as I am yours’ passes between them without anything actually being put into words. It’s like every act of intimacy is another vow to each other. Draco probably wouldn’t describe it in such cliché and sentimental words, but Harry could feel through the bond that he experiences the same thing.

 

Harry was brought out of his own head by the warm press of Draco at his opening and then suddenly being filled so completely with one quick thrust. Harry emitted a surprised yelp at the swift penetration, since Draco had always been rather slow about the first incursion, but now, both of their avid eagerness was making them spend much less time on the ministrations and much more on satisfying the clawing beasts within them. Though, even in such a state—so far gone in so little time—Draco was shockingly careful and accurate in how he thrust-into and held his lover, giving Harry that aggressive intensity that set his lungs on fire and had him pleading for more without ever actually hurting Harry.

 

Harry’s head fell back against the wall behind him as Draco took on a pace that kept in tandem with Harry’s heart thrumming in his ears. The angle was just right to burst little explosions of pleasure inside Harry each time Draco’s member brushed against his prostate. Harry’s mouth was moving, trying to warn Draco that he was close, but he wasn’t sure if any nose was coming out over the roar of blood in his ears. _Something_ must have come out, though, because without even realizing Draco had moved one of his hands was wrapping around Harry’s cock and pumping in beat with his movements.

 

Feeling the beginnings of an orgasm, Harry arched forward and tightened his internal muscles around Draco involuntarily. Draco groaned and called his name in a wanton voice as his thrusts became slower and more deliberate and his lips found an exposed patch of neck to suck and bite at as Harry’s shuddering breaths and cries were projected through the room. Two more tight strokes and thrusts later and delicious fire bloomed in Harry’s gut and he felt something hot and wet drip off of Draco’s fingers wrapped around him. Draco followed seconds later and continued to thrust up into Harry’s sensitive prostate as he rode out his orgasm in a heady bliss.

 

Breathing heavily and skin coated in a cooling sheen of sweat, Harry clung to Draco with the last of his spent energy. When Harry’s clouded green eyes connected with Draco’s, his face broke out into a luminous grin, feeling like his body had been filled with rivers of warmth. Draco rolled his eyes but returned his grin as he carefully set Harry back down so he could stand.

 

Draco wandlessly cleaned them both before they started putting their clothes back on. As much as Harry wanted to curl up in the still-warm bed with Draco, he didn’t forget that this was still a guest-bedroom in the Malfoy Manor and it was already reaching into the early evening with classes the next day. Harry had just buttoned his trousers when solid, already dressed arms encircled his waist and he was pulled back against a robed chest. Still vividly electric memories of panting against that chest and feeling those arms twitch and flex against his sides as the connected hands gripped the back of his thighs made Harry shiver and bite his lip at the adulterated thoughts.

 

“I want to just lock you away from the world. Keep you hidden so that only I can see and _touch_ you, so that no one can ever hurt you.” Instead of tightening his grip on Harry like he’s expected, Draco brought one of his arms up and gently brushed his fingers over the side of Harry’s cheek bone like he was made of paper. Harry felt treasured, and for a moment he allowed for himself to indulge in the feeling before turning to place a chaste kiss on the inside of Draco’s palm and bending over to pick up his torn and discarded shirt. He cast a quick repairing charm on the shirt—just as he’d done for the rest of his clothes that had been torn off in the . . . _heat of the moment._

 

“As if I would ever allow that!” Harry dismissed as he straightened up and pulled on his shirt. When he turned back to face Draco, who’d stepped away when he’d bent down, Draco was smirking. After he finished buttoning his shirt, Draco stepped back into his space—but not unwelcomely—his expression becoming serious.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright? I know that the diagnostic spells were all normal, but if you feel off at all—” Draco was cut off quickly and firmly.

 

“I’m _fine,_ Draco! Honestly, if something were wrong I would tell you immediately. Believe it or not, I _don’t actually_ like being in mortal danger.” Harry deadpanned and Draco fitted him with an unamused look in return. It wasn’t the opportune moment for sarcasm, Harry was aware, but Draco _needed_ a bit of a cheering up, a bit of a break in the chaos and frustration and utter shit fest that always seemed right around the corner when they finally began to relax.

 

֎

 

After returning to the castle via Severus’s private floo in his office, Draco and Harry made their way down to dinner, since they’d been absent nearly the entire day, and though this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in itself, it wouldn’t hurt to partake in a meal before the week started up again. Harry had noticed Draco closeness once they started seeing other students in the halls. Whenever anyone got within ten feet, Draco put a hand on Harry’s hip and pulled him closer and Harry was positive that Draco didn’t even notice. Harry didn’t say anything about it though, because he knew that it was partially his fault that Draco felt the need to keep him so close.

 

When they arrived at dinner, they both sat down at the empty portion of the Slytherin table that they usually sat at and began assembling their meal as their group—who’d already arrived and were well into their meals—chatted excitedly around them in their little bubble of a silencing charm. The Slytherins around them went on with their dinners without calling any attention to the fact that they had privacy spells around them. Harry felt strangely proud of their composure, but he was quickly distracted when Pansy leaned forward directly across from him to whisper.

 

“So . . . where were you all day? Draco said you went to a Wizengamot meeting with Lucius, but those don’t take all day.” Pansy quirked an immaculate eyebrow and the curiosity burning behind her eyes was what made Harry feel like teasing her a bit.

 

“I was playing cat and mouse with the Dark Lord.” Harry answered seriously as he buttered a roll, not even pausing to glance up at his friend. Harry saw Draco’s glare in his peripheral vision, which caused his complacent mask to crack and he smirked for a fraction of a second before he could reign it back in, but he knew that Pansy had seen it by the way she scoffed and leaned back to cross her arms over her chest.

 

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but giving me a bloody _heart attack_ is just downright cruel!” She snapped, sounding annoyed and more than a little disappointed at being denied an answer. This time, Harry _did_ look up her and flashed her a devious smile at the same time that Draco growled lowly beside him.

 

“He _isn’t_ joking, which is what’s so infuriating!” Draco grumbled and glared down at the honey smoked ham slice speared on his fork. Pansy’s eyes popped open and everyone’s attention immediately flicked to Harry.

 

“Merlin, Harry! Tell me you didn’t!” Blaise erupted with a surprising burst of exclamation that the Italian rarely— _if ever_ —was found practicing.

 

“Yeah, I mean I know you’re suddenly a lot more powerful now that you’re an Izaki, but the Dark Lord is still . . . _the Dark Lord!”_ Theo chimed in, looking genuinely abhorred by the news. Harry could understand, and for a moment he felt a flash of guilt, he’d forgotten that Theo’s father was a current Death Eater under Voldemort. It was simple with Pansy because she always had made it abundantly clear how she felt about her parents and wouldn’t waste a sickle if their lives were on the line! But Harry didn’t know how Theo felt about his parents and the matter of Death Eaters, since he’d been cast as a future Death Eater in Harry’s mind before his seventh year just by association with the other Slytherins who’d seemed headed down that path.

 

Harry opened his mouth, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was about to say. Thankfully, he was saved when he felt someone shift into the privacy spell without hindrance and without breaking the spell itself. Feeling a presence approach directly behind him, Harry subtly angled his head so that the others wouldn’t notice right away as he listened. Having caught his movement, the invisible presence behind him moved closer to his ear and spoke in very hushed tones.

 

“Do you still want to contact Gale tonight? Or would you rather wait until morning?” Mal murmured, leaning down between him and Draco so that only they could hear him. Harry felt a jolt go through him as he was hit with the realization that he’d completely forgotten about his promise to use the _obisculous_ again to contact Gale and discuss the physical layout of Terra di Morte and set a few plans into motion.

 

Draco caught his gaze and gave a minute shake of his head, enough to warn Harry that he didn’t think that it was a good idea. Harry deflated a little knowing that something he’d been looking forward to since his first contact with Gale would have to be put on hold, but at the same time, he felt quite relieved having one less thing to immediately obsess over after the already long and strenuous day. All Harry wanted to do right now was finish his delicious dinner of roasted and smoked meats and take a long bath in the private bathroom connected to his dorm room—one of the many perks of being a seventh year Slytherin.

 

Mal got the message from their small interaction and Harry felt him leave the privacy spell perimeter after grabbing a large hunk of turkey that had been torn from the bird and piled on a platter for the easy pickings of students. A few Slytherins’ heads snapped up when the large chunk of meat levitated and promptly floated out of the dining hall.

 

Harry forced himself to put all of the things that constantly seemed to swirl around in his head—out of his mind and just relax. He’d been forced to grow up at a very young age, but that didn’t negate that fact that he _is_ still just a student, and should be allowed to act like a student. If he’d not received his inheritance—and with it the responsibility to aid his species—Harry would have purposely spent his last year at Hogwarts doing _only_ normal seventh year things just to rub it into the faces of everyone who tried to pass on their own responsibilities to a kid. He would have had fun with his friends, joked, sipped secretly from a firewhiskey bottle passed around the group until he did things he’d regret, stress over his NEWT’s, and live by the blissful notion that he could never die because the young and hopeful simple _don’t die._

 

But since he couldn’t have that every day, he needed to take it when he had the opportunity. So, he ate dinner with his friends—even if not all of them were with him—and laughed at the easy banter and jabbing humor that was thrown around between them like they’d been doing it all their lives. When the copious amounts of turkey and sweet, buttery bread rolls finally hit Harry like a freight-train of sleepy delight, Harry excused himself and force Draco to stay when it was obvious that he was having fun and wasn’t quite ready to leave.

 

Harry walked slowly back to the Slytherin dorms, taking a sedate pace through the corridors and stairwells as the walls seemed to hum with warmth and surrounded him in an unidentifiable smell that he could only associate with Hogwarts, it was so oddly soothing. Thankfully, Harry encountered no one on his journey back to his room, though it _was_ rather early for anyone to be in the halls. Everyone was either enjoying their last day off for the weekend in the dining hall with their friends, or in the library desperately trying to finish the assignments they were supposed to have finished over the weekend.

 

When Harry entered the bathroom, he lit the clusters of candles around the medium sized room, casting it in a soft glow. As the porcelain tub steadily filled with deliciously hot water, Harry disrobed and let the various garments fall to the floor around him as they came undone. Not feeling particularly neat or tidy, Harry kicked the clothes to the farther side of the room once he was naked. The bath didn’t take long to fill, so as soon as Harry was rid of the confining fabric, he turned off the faucet and slipped into the water with a pleased sigh.

 

Once he was settled into to bath, Harry felt truly relaxed as the warmth slipped between every joint and muscle and loosened them. Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling this pleasantly warm and relaxed, so it was no wonder when his eyelids drooped sluggishly and his head turned to the side on the cushioning charm he’d placed on the back rim of the tub for his head. Sinking a little lower into the water so that it came up to the nape of his neck, Harry’s eyes closed fully and he mentally assured himself that he _wouldn’t_ fall asleep, he would just relax a bit longer. . .

 

Just a little l.o.n.g.e.r. . .

 

 

Blinking his eyes open again to keep himself from falling asleep, Harry rubbed his blurry eyes and squinted in the darkness. When he realized _how_ dark it was, at first Harry feared that he’d fallen asleep for so long that the candles had gone out. Harry shook his head, discarding that theory since he knew that the candles in his bathroom were charmed to last the entire year before they went out and needed to be replaced. Also, he was no longer in a bath, nor was he in his bed. As his vision quickly became clearer in the night, Harry finally recognized his surroundings.

 

He had fallen asleep, and he was _still dreaming._ A heavy weight of dread sank in his gut, feeling completely familiar, yet totally unsure of his surroundings and what they might hold. His feet began moving on their own, just like before, taking him down the long hallway. But instead of the ominously shaking and pounding door that he remembered from the first dream, the door was eerily quiet. Harry wasn’t fooled though, he knew without a doubt in his mind that the same presence he’d felt before was still behind the door. It was as if it had been trying to get his attention, and now that he’d come, it _knew_ that he’d be coming back.

 

He was only a quarter of the way left until he reached the door when he felt another presence behind him. Half turning—still wary of the door he’d been drawn to—Harry was shocked to find a frail ten-year-old version of himself looking up at him, eyes brimming with fear and fingers tightly wringing the hem of his dirty and oversized shirt until the skin around his knuckles were taunt.

 

“Don’t go in there! _Never open that door!_ ” Little Harry pleaded, eyes nervously flicking past Harry to the silent door. Harry looked at the door as well, frown overtaking his face. He didn’t _want_ to open the door, so why was his younger self so terrified? And even though nightmares tended to be mindlessly panicked without any sort of rhyme or reason, in this particular dream, Harry felt surprisingly level headed. Sure, he felt that insidious fear in the back of his mind, but he was also able to reason that it _was_ _just a dream._ So, curious about the conviction in the young visage’s voice and expression, Harry ask him.

 

“Why should I not open the door? Whatever’s behind it won’t hurt me, since this isn’t real.” Harry was satisfied that his tone sounded calm and convincing.

 

“No! You don’t understand! Dreams are as dangerous as reality, because in a dream you can’t close your eyes and you can’t hide. In your dreams, the truth always finds you and can hurt you all it wants.” Smaller Harry cried, grabbing onto real Harry’s arm.

 

Suddenly, the child-like clone of his past-self yanked down on Harry’s arm with astonishing force until their faces were mere inches away. Harry stared wide-eyed into the glowing green pools as the frightened face of the child morphed into a severe expression that didn’t belong on the innocent face. In harsh whispered tones, the child spoke again. “Some dreams just shouldn’t be had.” The sounds of pounding reverberated through the hall behind him and vibrated through the floorboards and walls, but Harry couldn’t look away as little hands dug painfully into his forearm and seared every millimeter of flesh they came into contact with. Harry jolted at the sudden pain that felt all too real.

 

With that jolt, Harry blinked and suddenly the bathroom came back into view. His forearm tingled and he splashed around to try and sit up enough to get a look at his arm to assess the damage. But even as his bones ached and skin tingled in that very specific spot, there was no mark left visible on Harry’s skin. Harry dropped his arm into the still-hot water and tried to control his erratic and panicked breathing.

 

 _Just when he thought he could relax._. .

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! I am so sorry it took me this long to update and that it isn't even that long of an update.
> 
> I think I'm going to start writing shorter chapters so that I can post them more frequently. It's my first fic, so it's been a touch and go process to see what works best for me. I'm not sure when I will be able to update next, but I HAVEN'T gone on hiatus or anything yet and plan on getting the next chapter to you as soon as I can.
> 
> Thank you guys for being so patient and sticking with me. It means a lot to me that you guys enjoy this story.
> 
> Also, side note: I've been getting that little itch to start another story. I worked through some plans and have started writing, but I won't be posting anything until I have a solid amount written up. See the end of the chapter notes for a bit more information if you're interested.
> 
> Thank you, and Pleasant Readings!

 

 

Draco watched patiently as his lover paced back and forth in front of the emerald velvet chair he’d snagged from the Slytherin common room to put in the room of requirement. Harry’s thin fingers were crooked in tense talons over his elbows in a way that made his fingertips sheet white and little crescent-shaped slips cut into his sleeves from the hint of Izaki claws. That plump bottom lip disappeared into a mouth of clenching and unclenching teeth and Draco feared a third eye would blink open from the tight crease between his brows to add to the glare he was currently inflicting on the innocent floorboards. All while the absent chatter and bustle of the majority of their group practiced their “drills” behind the little sitting area where they lounged on occasion.

 

Draco had noticed something was wrong with Harry the night before, when he’d turned in rather early-despite Harry’s efforts to get him to spend more time with his friends. He caught him as he was coming out of the bathroom—hair, a damp mess of curls and his night clothes being pulled into place despite the protest of wet skin—his eyes were dazed and distracted even when looking right at Draco, and his face would scrunch up with worry every time he thought Draco wasn’t looking or got too caught up in his thoughts to notice he was being observed. He’d caught Harry brushing his fingers over his forearm several times throughout the night in an almost mindless gesture. On anyone else it would just look like a nervous habit, but Draco knew Harry’s quirks and ticks, and occasionally digging his fingers into the flesh of his wrist as if there were something hiding just below the surface was not one of them.

 

Draco wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t blind either. He knew that Harry didn’t always tell him everything. It wasn’t that he was lying to him, it was more along the lines of omission. There were certain areas of conversation that they didn’t breach under casual circumstances, which meant that they didn’t come up much at all. For instance, they didn’t talk much about the dark mark Draco had once carried, his nightmarish stints in Voldemort’s presence, the unnecessarily dangerous and traumatic confrontations Harry had experienced with the Dark Lord, or times when encounters between their younger-selves had been exceptionally bloody or ruthless. They would get to such things in time, but not every little thing needed to be laid out in the open between them and dealt with so soon after this form of relationship had developed between them. At the moment, they wouldn’t get between them, so there was no reason for undue stress to be put on either of them.

 

They kept quiet about these things, but only because they could wait—for a reasonable time—until later. What worried Draco, was that he knew that the biggest role models throughout Harry’s life had all been self-sacrificing fools. It wasn’t that Draco despised them all, in fact, what he’d heard about James and Lily potter led him to think that he may have got on with Harry’s parents if given the chance. It was just that one common characteristic that Draco wished they had never passed on to his Harry. Everyone Harry looked up to from the moment he’d learned about his magic were all the kind of people that hid their own troubles—along with anyone else’s they could get their hands on—from their loved ones and wouldn’t let anyone else shoulder the weight with them. He’d been forced into baring so much on his own that it was natural for him to do everything without help.

 

Draco knew he was trying to break free from that habit, he had been trying his best to allow Harry his freedom to make his own choices and do things for himself, but he also needed to show Harry that it was  _ good _ to rely on the help of others. It was a constant game of push and pull between them, and Draco would do it for the rest of his life if he needed to, but it was hard to judge when he needed to push and when he needed to pull. Draco wasn’t perfect, he knew that Harry pushed and pulled just as much as he did, but Harry was far more perceptive than people gave him credit for, and much better than Draco at knowing what to do and when to do it.

 

Which often left Draco a little behind the mark in some instances, like right then. The night before, Draco had asked Harry if something had happened, knowing it had but not wanting to corner Harry when he was obviously shaken up by something. But then, Harry gave him a gentle and adoring smile, kissed him in ‘thanks’ for some reason he didn’t quite understand, and assured him that everything was fine.

 

Draco had thought it might be best to wait for Harry to tell him what was wrong, but then . . . this morning happened.

 

Harry had woken up looking less rested than when he’d gone to bed. He hadn’t tossed and turned in his sleep, but it was obvious that his dreams had brought with them something that left Harry feeling confused and stretched thin in the morning. Later, when they went to breakfast and received quite an amusing issue of the Daily Prophet, Draco thought that Harry’s spirits might finally be lifted. . .

 

To Harry’s utter amusement, apparently, Rita Skeeter was putting her unregistered beetle animagus form to use by sneaking into Hogwarts like she had his fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament in order to get more dirt on Dumbledore’s mysterious “affliction.” He’s been using the excused of being unwell to hide from the press. To the outside world, McGonagall has been acting Headmistress since this “illness” began, but Dumbledore still had reign over the school within these walls. Fortunately, no one in the Slytherin house felt particularly keen on keep this little secret from their parents and many wrote home. And this meant that their parents got involved and started speaking out about Dumbledore lying to the public and running a school when he claims to be unwell.

 

The story had taken up 75% of the front page and all of page 5 of the Prophet in order to relay all of the juicy little conversations Skeeter had eavesdropped on. Harry smirked unguardedly through reading each excerpt and quote, as did the others in his ‘circle’ around the dining hall. Pansy, never one for subtlety, snorted loudly when she’d read the headlines, and then continued to snicker and full-on cackle as she read on.

 

Some of the best conversations had happened between Dumbledore and McGonagall. Harry was mildly surprised to see that his Pro-Dumbles Transfiguration Professor was taking full advantage of Dumbledore’s vulnerable situation to get some answers of her own. Snape had been sure that she wouldn’t ignore everything she’d seen from Harry and the Dursley’s, but Harry hadn’t been so optimistic. With this, though, perhaps things with Dumbledore would move much faster now that the public was seeing that one of his most loyal followers was doubting him.

 

The Slytherin house seemed to be floating between a feeling of pleasant satisfaction and triumph from the morning events. Although Dumbledore’s absence that morning had deprived Harry of seeing his shock and horror at the article that so beautifully displayed his confessions to a multitude questionable acts as a Headmaster—and as a light wizard in general—he felt uplifted knowing that  _ some _ things were going according to plan (and even better in this case.) The Daily Prophet wasn’t the only news that came with a shock factor that morning. Although it didn’t make quite as big of a stir, the Quibbler featured a few columns talking about the security, staff, and ethics of Hogwarts. Huh, it’s almost as if they had ties in both papers and had suggested that these controversial pieces would sell like mad.

 

Luna’s father, an editor for the Quibbler, was more than thrilled to put that kind of piece in, and Rita had practically salivated all over the ‘anonymous tip’ Harry sent her telling her vague details about what was happening to Dumbledore. . .

 

Draco was dragged away during his free period by Harry—suddenly in a much better mood—to go back to Harry’s. Draco had been half expecting (more like hoping) his giddy mate might jump him before lunch with his renewed energy, but instead of getting  _ on _ the bed like Draco had hoped, Harry pushed it aside and quickly descended into the dark passage. Draco clamped down on his disappointed sigh and followed Harry down.

 

This is where the morning went to shit. It didn’t take nearly as long for Harry to slip into the meditative trance that the  _ obisculous _ offered, but as the time stretched on in silence and Harry’s face pinched together in frustration Draco knew that something was up. When Harry came out of the ‘trance’ he looked confused and off put. He explained that he kind of just drifted in the darkness and didn’t actually connect to Gail. Harry tried two more times with the same result before Draco finally dragged him back upstairs with platitudes about Gail probably sleeping or unavailable or something. And just like that, the good mood that had been wrangled out of Harry that morning vanished.

 

Now they were in the room of requirement with Pansy, Theo, and Neville. Harry worked himself up into a worry about Gail and this insane mission and Dumbledore and Voldemort and he kept mumbling more and more things that were filling him up to the near point of implosion. Draco calmly stood up, put a gentle hand on Harry’s back and started guiding him out of the room. Harry immediately began trying to slip out of his grip and demand where they were going. Draco lifted a curious brow, noticing just how frustrated and stressed Harry really was. Harry looked like he was daring Draco to be difficult so that they could fight the pent up energy right out of his system. Oh goodness, did he say ‘fight’? Because he was thinking of another ‘F’ word that would be just as satisfying for them both.

 

Draco smiled and something in his expression caused Harry’s look of apprehension and challenge to shift into curiosity and slight arousal.

 

“You need something to take your mind off all of this, and I have just the solution. We’re going to have some fun,  _ the Slytherin way!” _ Draco’s curling mouth sent excited shivers down Harry’s spine and he had to remind himself that stone floors were hard on the knees and right outside the door where half of his friends were practicing spells was not a suitable location.

 

 

It started off rather tame. Draco sending an ominous breeze through the hallway that caught the promiscuous note Lavender had tucked between the pages of her notebook and carried it right into the grim face of one Severus Snape. According to Ginny, Lavender and a few other girls had spent their morning rating all of the guys in their year based on attractiveness, as well as their professors. Harry and Draco watched from an alcove under the same spell Mal uses to get around the school unseen. Harry had to clamp a hand over his mouth to hold in the snorts of laughter as Severus laid his best you-will-wish-you-were-never-born face on Lavender after reading the list and figuring out what it was. The best part? Apparently the girls had put Snape at the very bottom right under the giant squid in the black lake.

 

Harry went next, wanting to one-up Draco he waited in an alcove—still under the invisibility spell—and watched as Ron, Seamus, Ernie Macmillan, and Wayne Hopkins flirted with a couple of fifth years. The girls seemed less than impressed to say the least, but the two Gryffindors and two Hufflepuffs were grinning like they knew they were ace with women. Harry huffed quietly and rolled his eyes before taking a moment to concentrate, Draco watching from over his shoulder in amusement.

 

Suddenly, the three fifth years looked down and burst into unrestrained laughter. One girl even leaned over to grab her friend’s arm to keep from keeling over with the breathless giggles tittering out of her mouth. All four boys shared confused looked before a metallic sheen glinted in the light and in comical unison, looked down at themselves. Harry grinned triumphantly and Draco chuckled delightedly in his ear as horror dawned on all of their faces. Harry had used an intricate bit of magic to transfigure each boys’ trousers and pants into skin tight, metallic hot-pants. Each boy had a different color like some kind of ridiculous girl band. Ron turned redder than his cherry apple red hot-pants and was the first to come back to himself and flee the scene as the girl’s boisterous laughter filled the hall.

 

The day then turned into a competition between Draco and Harry to see who could pull the best prank. By diner, they’d managed to put a rather tenacious itching-hex on two elitist-Ravenclaws’ private bits, jelly-leg jinxed a few underclassmen into taking down their group of friends like bowling pins, hexed Snape’s robe so that every time he tried to make a dramatic exit/entrance with his billowy-thing the corners of his robes would come up and inelegantly smack him right in the face, and turned Ron’s clothes into something scandalous and ultimately feminine three more times. There was nothing wrong with wanting to wear the ‘feminine’ lingerie, but Ron practically broke out in hives at the thought of doing anything ‘ _ girly _ .’

 

By that time, many of the Slytherins had caught on to what they were doing, and were making a little mischief of their own. Harry made sure that they never crossed the line into bullying, never did anything permanent, and never got  _ caught. _ Overall, it was a surprisingly effective way of releasing his frustration. It wasn’t just him that was effected either, the rest of the students in other houses were looking a lot more excited and ready for the playful prank wars. Despite the fact that Deatheater attacks have all but disappeared and Voldemort hasn’t been heard of since last summer, Wizarding Britain was still in a state of war, tensions were still very high and they couldn’t be blocked out by the school’s boundaries.

 

When the twins were here, they had always been so good at distracting everyone from the fear weighing down over everyone like a full sky right before a storm. Even kids outside of their house, could enjoy their antics and ploys. Harry thought back to his fifth year, under the oppressive pale pink heel of Dolores Umbridge and her grotesque form of ‘punishment’ that left children bleeding and in pain. Harry could remember seeing how hard George and Fred tried to lift their spirits throughout and then their firework performance during Harry’s OWL.

 

It had been so refreshing to see them that last time, to be able to witness the wonder that was Forge and Gred. Harry felt a strong tug in his gut, like he was missing or forgetting something. Harry thought about the upcoming mission to save his people, about what it will be like to get even just a few of them out of imprisonment and into a world they probably hadn’t seen in decades. He wondered if having George and Fred there would make a difference. Sure, he could be gentle and sympathetic, but Harry was still lacking in certain social skills and knew he wouldn’t know what to do with a bunch of people who’d been through hell. Could he relate? On some level, maybe. But he didn’t have the gift of pulling out that kind of childhood wonder that seemed second nature to the twins.

 

The feeling in his gut settled into a pleasant buzz, like his subconscious was happy with his decision to contact the twins and possibly bring them in. Besides, the twins were geniuses when it came to inventions and magical crafting, they would be useful additions to their band of misfits. Plus, watching Mal chase after Fred was just too good to pass up on.

 

֎

 

It wasn’t until they returned to the dorms that night that Harry actually thought about Gail again since failing to reach him. Before Draco could begin undressing for bed, Harry shoved the bed out of the way again and began descending the stairs. At the bottom, Harry didn’t wait for Draco to stick his hand into the cool water and felt the darkness settle onto his mind like a wet cloak. The world soon began to brighten around him and Harry released a breath he hadn’t known he’d held in as the familiar cell came into perspective around him.

 

Gail was sitting forward on his bed, somehow having known where Harry would be standing when he came through.

 

“I’ve spoken with the elders.” Gail cut straight to what he needed to say, and Harry was grateful. “Firstly, they thank you for your help and for the information you gave us about the world outside. They also said that they will do anything that they can to help free these people and you have their full support.” Gail assured and Harry felt himself physically relax both in the room with Draco and this strange form of Izaki astral projection.

 

“Good, that’s good. I’ve gathered a few people who I absolutely trust to help with this raid. They are few in numbers and most are still in school with Draco and I, but they have faced the impossible and weathered through by my side for these past few years. I’ve been helping to train them in order to prepare for what is to come.” Harry stated, his head held high with pride for his friends and the slight challenge in case Gail protested, as that was exactly what the look on Gail’s face said he wanted to do.

 

“Although I don’t agree with putting more children in danger, I trust that you know what you’re doing and they are fully aware of the risks they are taking on. . . I have a question.” Gail said after a brief pause.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Assuming that everything goes according to plan and we free the thousands of Izaki held in this compound, many will take their freedom and go back into hiding—as they should—but I personally know of quite a few that will be ready and willing to fight against this growing danger as soon as they are free. You must understand, many of us have been here for decades, and even centuries, and we don’t have anything waiting for us on the outside. Do you know of a safe place where we could go? Hogwarts is obviously out of the question, especially because of that  _ Headmaster _ of yours!” Gail spat the word venomously and Harry felt a flicker of anger in his chest at just the mention of the man.

 

“We just need a safe area, strictly magical forests are very suitable, as our species tends to be revered by other magical creatures. You may or may not have experienced this, but we have far stronger lineal ties to Magic herself, as it was from her womb that our ancestors descended, and as such, magical creatures feel an instinctual call to us and to obey us. I vaguely remember a few forests of such nature from the time before my incarceration, but I do not know if they still stand or if they are as secluded from human interaction as I remember.” Gail finished, looking uncomfortable with having to ask someone a fraction of his age for such help. Harry could tell that Gail still held onto his pride in a place such as this, and Harry found it rather respectable.

 

Harry took a moment to study Gail, but had already made up his mind before the man had finished talking.

 

“Do not worry over such things, I have the means and willingness to lodge any who wish to help us, or any who need protection and shelter once we leave. I procured a sizable Manor with my inheritance that could house a small village. The land around it is very large, secluded, and unplottable in case we  _ do _ run out of rooms, camps can be set up. It is a very old ancestral home, so the wards are very strong and can be added to. I open my home to anyone seeking shelter and asylum, tell that to those who know that this is happening.” Harry stated firmly.

 

Harry went on to talk about technicalities and times and dates, things that he and Draco had discussed and agreed on early since he couldn’t exactly be an active member of the conversation. Gail agreed that the best time to hold the raid was as soon as Harry and the rest were let out for winter break so that they could relocate and help anyone who needs it in that time. That will give Harry a month to prepare himself and the others. This won’t just be a stun-and-run kind of ordeal, from the sounds of it, the place was just  _ crawling _ with highly trained guards who would put the Ministry’s guard dog Aurors to shame. That means, if they wanted to make it out of that place alive, they would be shooting to kill every single time.

 

Harry wanted to feel bad about that, wanted to feel like he was above killing someone he didn’t even know. But he didn’t, and he wasn’t. Harry felt no remorse for the people helping to systematically oppress and exterminate an entire highly intelligent magical species. They decided to hold the leash, now they have to face the beast and risk getting bitten.

 

Apparently Terra di Morte is under the  _ fidelious _ charm and that’s why no outsiders know of its location, but one of the elders has prophetic dreams and was able to pass on the exact coordinates to Harry so that they would be able to reach the island without magic forcing them in the wrong direction the moment they got close enough. Gail used his finger and the dust and dirt on the floor in order to draw Harry a rough map of the compound and the best way to get in.

 

By the time they decided to stop so that they could both rest—the  _ obisculous _ was very draining after a long period of time—they already had the bone and a bit of flesh of a plan set. When they said goodbye Gail had told Harry to be careful in a serious and grave voice, to which Harry smiled and told him to do the same.

 

 

 

 

When Harry came out of the  _ obisculous _ trance, he felt drained of energy, yet also more energized than before. It felt good to have some sort of plan in place, to know when and how he was going to do this.

 

Draco helped Harry back up into his room and they both quickly prepared for bed so that they could get in it faster. Once Harry was settled onto Draco’s chest, eyes closed and breathing calmly as the blond carded his fingers through Harry’s hair absently, he finally allowed himself to fully relax on the firm flesh of his lover. Harry had one leg tangled between Draco’s and his arm thrown over his abdomen while his cheek rested right above his heart.

 

He knew that the times to come would be challenging, but with Draco by his side, he finally felt like it was worth it. Like it was worth marching through hell if it meant that at the end of all of this there would be time for their lives together. For the first time in quite a while, Harry felt motivated to fight. Harry felt motivated to  _ win. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Okay, so as for the other fic I've been thinking about, I've been thinking about doing a Harry/Tom for a while because I really enjoy the complex dynamic between the two. I think that we can all agree that seeing the Golden Boy grow up to be not so golden is pretty fun and juicy.
> 
> I've got the basic plot planned out and have already written the first chapter, but I want to write a lot more before I post it, just because I don't want to fall behind like I keep doing with this fic.
> 
> I've come up with--well, what I think is anyway--a pretty cool plot. As far as I've been able to tell nobodies done this rout specifically, but even if they have there's not enough out there for it to be common.
> 
> I won't be devoting all of my time to this new fic so don't worry, but it will help to motivate me to actually write without forcing me to stick to just the one story.
> 
> I have no idea when I'll be posting it or how long it will be (I have a feeling it won't be short by any means, though). If anyone is interested, I will try to keep you updated on how the fic is going and how close I am to publishing something in the end of chapter notes.
> 
> Thank you for sticking around, hope you enjoy the rest of the fic and have a wonderful day. Pleasant Readings!


	14. Notice: Short Hiatus

 

 

Hello everybody! It's been a while

 

Unfortunately, this is not the next chapter. I spent a lot of time thinking about this, but I felt that I owed it to you guys to keep you updated, since I promised I would.

 

I've decided to go on a short hiatus for Iniquitous Fruition. I know that you guys are anxious to find out what happens next and I hate to do this right when things are getting interesting. I had truly planned on going straight to the end, but I think I bit off more than I could chew with my first story.

 

I got a little too excited when I started this story. I didn't do nearly as much planning as I wanted to, and I think I got too caught up in the reactions I was getting to certain things that I lost my way a bit on what  **I** wanted this story to be.

 

Don't get me wrong! I still lover the plot and the direction of the story, and I fully plan on picking it up soon--definitely before the summer's over! I just need to back-track a bit and do a lot more outlining and planning. When I have this mess all sorted, I'll be posting another author's note/notice thingy here again to tell you guys.

 

In the meantime, I'll still be writing, just not immediately on this story. As I mentioned before, I've started writing a new fic--and this time it is  _much_ more planned out! I want to hold off on posting it for as long as possible so that I don't get caught up in dead lines and I can be sure that the story stays on track. I'm about 46k words in and I'm just getting started. I want it to be almost completed--or at least passed half-way through--before I post anything. If you'd like more information on this new fic, just ask me in the comments and I'll give you a little blurb.

 

Again, I regret having to do this, but I think it will result in a  _much_ better fic that both you  _and_ I will enjoy! Thank you everyone for sticking with me and my writing blocks/bursts of inspiration. I hope that you'll come back to see the conclusion to my little brain-child.

 

Thank you, have a wonderful evening, and Pleasant Readings!

 

I'm not done yet!

 

 


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